distance behind is the chestnut, evidently on bad terms with his jockey;
he is in a white lather of foam, and changes his leg twice as he
approaches. Guy has his face turned slightly aside as he nears the spot
where Miss Bellasys waits for him, in the midst of her body-guard. For
the first time since the race began, her voice was heard, cutting the
air with its clear mocking tones, like the edge of a Damascus sabre,
"The chestnut wins--hard held!"

Guy's kindly impulses vanished instantly before the sarcasm latent in
those last two words. He could sacrifice his own victory and the hopes
of his backers, but he would not give a chance to Flora's merciless
tongue. We saw him change his hold on the reins, and, with a shake and a
fierce thrust of the spurs, he set the Axeine fairly going.

Every man on the ground, including his late owner [who hated himself
bitterly at that moment for parting with him], was taken by surprise by
the extraordinary speed the horse displayed. He raced up to Bella Donna
just before the last fence, at which she hangs ever so little, while he
takes it in his swing, covering good nine yards from hoof to hoof.
Nothing but hurdles now between them and home. The down-hill run-in
favors his vast stride. A thousand voices echo Flora's words, "The
chestnut wins!" Charley made his effort exactly at the right time, and
the brave little mare answered gallantly; but it was not to be. He shook
his head, and never touched her with whip or spur again.

The race was over. No one disputed the judge's fiat: "The Axeine by six
lengths."

Up to the skies went the hats and the shouts of the sturdy yeomen, who
"know'd he couldn't be beat," exulting in the success of their