“I shall back him, anyhow.” She settled herself in her seat.
“Here, I 'll tell you what I will do. I will bet you he don't get a place,” said Mr. Newby.
“How much? What is a 'place'?” she asked.
It was explained to her.
“How much—a hundred to one!”
“No; not that!”
“You 're learning,” laughed her friends.
“There! they 're off. Here they come!” buzzed the crowd, as the flag at last fell, and they came up the field, a dozen in all, two in the lead, then a half-dozen together in a bunch, and two or three behind, one in the rear of all. Old Robin's heart dropped as the cry went up: “The countryman 's left. It 's yellow-jacket!” It was too far off for him to see clearly, but the laughter about him was enough.
“That boy don't know how to ride. What did they put him in for?” they said.
A minute later, however, the tone changed. The country boy was coming up, and was holding his horse in, too. The riders were settling themselves and spreading out, getting their horses in hand for the long gallop.