“More than that,” Jim answered. “We’ve often raced here.”
“Oh!” Norah’s eyes fairly danced. “Let’s have a race now!”
“Noble idea!” exclaimed Wally.
“Well, it’ll have to be a handicap to make it fair,” Jim said. “If we start level, Norah’s pony can beat any of the others, and I think Mick can beat the other two. At any rate we’ll give you fellows a start, and Norah must give me one.”
“I don’t care,” Norah said gleefully, digging her heel into Bobs, with the result that that animal suddenly executed a bound in mid-air. “Steady, you duffer; I didn’t mean any offence, Bobsie dear,” She patted his neck.
“I should think you wouldn’t care,” Jim said. “Best pony and lightest weight! You ought to be able to leave any of us miles behind, so we’ll give you a beautiful handicap, young woman!”
“Where’s the winning post?” Harry asked.
“See that big black tree—the one just near the boundary fence, I mean? It’s a few chains from the fence, really. We’ll finish there,” Jim replied.
“Come on, then,” said Norah, impatiently. “Get on ahead, Harry and Wally; you’ll have to sing out ‘Go!’ Jim, and sing it out loud, ’cause we’ll be ever so far apart.”
“Right oh!” Jim said. “Harry, clear on a good way; you’re the heaviest. Pull up when I tell you; you too, Wal.” He watched the two boys ride on slowly, and sang out to them to stop when he considered they had received a fair start. Then he rode on himself until he was midway between Wally and Norah, Harry some distance ahead of the former. The ponies had an inkling of what was in the wind, and were dancing with impatience.