As they watched with staring eyes the racing horses they saw Raven bring back the line to the girl clinging to the wagon seat, then the black stallion, shooting in front of the ponies, began to slow down upon them, hampering their running till they were brought to an easy canter, and, under the more active discipline of teeth and hoofs, were forced to a trot and finally brought to a standstill, and so held till Cameron and the doctor came up to them.
“Raven,” gasped Cameron, fighting for his breath and coming forward with hand outstretched, “you have—done—a great thing—to-day—for me. I shall not—forget it.”
“Tut tut, Cameron, simple thing. I fancy you are still a few points ahead,” said Raven, taking his hand in a strong grip. “After all, it was Night Hawk did it.”
“You saved—my sister's life,” continued Cameron, still struggling for breath.
“Perhaps, perhaps, but I don't forget,” and here Raven leaned over his saddle and spoke in a lower voice, “I don't forget the day you saved mine, my boy.”
“Come,” said Cameron, “let me present you to my sister.”
Instantly Raven swung himself from his horse.
“Stand, Night Hawk!” he commanded, and the horse stood like a soldier on guard.
“Moira,” said Cameron, still panting hard, “this is—my friend—Mr. Raven.”
Raven stood bowing before her with his hat in his hand, but the girl leaned far down from her seat with both hands outstretched.