“A tie for the first place between La Belle and Cameron! Time eleven seconds! The tie will be run off in a few minutes.”
In a tumult of triumph big Mack shoulders Cameron through the crowd and carries him off to the dressing tent, where he spends the next ten minutes rubbing his man's legs and chanting his glory.
“Who is this Cameron?” enquired the M.P.P., leaning over the platform railing.
Quick came the answer from the bevy of girls thronging past the platform.
“Cameron? He's our man!” It was Mandy's voice, bold and strong.
“Your man?” said the M.P.P., laughing down into the coarse flushed face.
“Yes, OUR man!” cried Isa MacKenzie back at him. “And a winner, you may be sure.”
“Ah, happy man!” exclaimed the M.P.P. “Who would not win with such backers? Why, I would win myself, Miss Isa, were you to back me so. But who is Cameron?” he continued to the Methodist minister at his side.
“He is Haley's hired man, I believe, and that first girl is Haley's daughter.”
“Poor thing!” echoed Mrs. Freeman, a kindly smile on her motherly face. “But she has a good heart has poor Mandy.”