The Preacher of Cedar Mountain: A Tale of the Open Country

  CHAPTER XXVIII

  The Finish

  The first mile was covered in good, but not remarkable time. Then theycame to the turning point. There was just the chance of changing placeshere, for the inner horse had the disadvantage of the sharper turn, butthe Indian boy made sure by dropping back a half length and the turn wasmade without a reverse. After them now with shouts of joy went all themounted men who had been waiting and rode in a thundering charge,yelling and cheering. The white jockey knew now that he was not dealingwith a fool. The red boy, though not so well mounted, was just as good arider as himself, and twenty pounds lighter, besides being withoutleathers, which raised the handicap to fully twenty-five pounds. In thatfirst half mile on the home stretch the buckskin still was head and neckbehind. Then the riders put forth all their skill and each did his bestto call forth every ounce of strength and every spurt of speed in hismount.

  The Indian boy let off his native yell and cried: "Ho,Huya--Huya--Huya!" and the keen quirt flashed and the buckskin flew.

  "Ho, Rover! good boy, git, git!" and the white man smote the shiningflank; and both the noble brutes responded as they had not done before.The sense of play was gone. It was now the real and desperate race. Thegazing thousands ranged about knew that, and the mingled roar of alltheir voices rose to a mighty booming sound.

  "Ho, Rover! Run, boy, run!"

  "Huya, Shunguna, Ho! Ho! Yeh! Yeh! Yeh!" and the redskin rider smotehard those heaving flanks.

  Flash, flash, those shadowy hoofs; thud, thud, upon the plain; thebuckskin's neck forged slowly on, now lapped the red-gold shoulder ofhis foe. The redskin shrieked, the riding mob behind gave voice and rodelike madmen. The racers plunged and plunged, the riders lay down almostto their necks, plying their quirts and shouting words of urge.

  The buckskin still won inches on the race, but the Rover led. The last,the final furlong was at hand. The riders yelled, the rabble yelled,guns were fired in mad excitement, and all restraint was gone. It waswin--win--burst--die--but _win_! And never jockeys harder rode and neverhorses better ran; the test was fair. Red Rover did his best, yet hisrival's legs in that last spurt moved as a rabbit's legs, a maze ofshadowy pounding limbs, and--sickening sight--the buckskin with thecopper rider forged still more ahead--a neck, half a length ahead--andthe race was _won_.

  * * * * *

  Peaches was in tears. "Colonel," he said, in a broken voice, "it wasthat twenty-five pound handicap did it; it wasn't fair."

  The Colonel growled something about "a lot of fools to let up on thetraining after that Yellowbank trial."

  Hartigan was standing near; gloomy, but not so gloomy as the rest; andwhen there came a chance to be heard, he said: "Colonel, once I see ahorse close to, in fair daylight, I can always remember him afterward.I've been looking over their buckskin cayuse, and it's _not the sameone_ we raced in the Yellowbank."

  The Colonel turned quickly around. "Are you sure?"

  "Absolutely certain," was the answer.

  "My goodness--you are right. I distrusted the whole business from thestart. You are right; they fooled us on a stool-pigeon; this whole thingwas a put-up job. The simple Red man!"

  * * * * *

  The "perchers" were gathered at the blacksmith shop next afternoon."Well," said Shives, "I've done fifteen dollars' worth of work to-dayand haven't taken in a cent." The audience grunted and he went on."Every tap of it was for broken-down bums trying to get out oftown--skinned by the simple Red man. Horses shod, tires set, boltsfixed, all kinds of cripplements. All they want is help to get out, getout; at any price get out. Well, it'll do you good, the whole caboodleof ye. Ye started out to do, and got done--everlastingly soaked." Theblacksmith chuckled. "Serve you all right. I'm glad ye got it."

  As Hartigan appeared, swinging a big stick and singing "The Wearing ofthe Green," Shives asked: "Well, Jim, how much did you lose?"

  "Nothing," sang Hartigan cheerfully; "I don't bet"; and he went onsinging, "'Tis the most distressful country this that ever yet wasseen."

  "Lucky dog! All the sports round this neck o' the woods are ruined. Theysay no gentleman will bet on a sure thing. H'm, maybe not. Well,fellows, cheer up; no man ever yet was made, until he had been ruined acouple of times; and all I hope is that the Reds will get up anotherrace and soak ye to the limit. Then maybe some o' ye will brace up andbe men; but I dunno."

  "Guess they've soaked us to the limit now," was the general voice ofthose assembled.

  Poor Higginbotham had gone in rather strong for him, in spite of hiswife, and there was no blue sky in his world, or prospect of it.

  Then they turned on Hartigan, who was going through the movements ofsinglestick, on the open floor. "Was he white, or wasn't he? How couldhe stand by and see the whole settlement skinned alive by Red Injinswhen he had the game in his own hands? Why didn't he enter Blazing Star?He didn't seem to take much interest in the affair, probably he wantedthe Red skins to win." The jibe stung Jim to the quick; he ceased hisexuberant exercise; the song died on his lips, and he strode away insilence.