now it was a conflict between native and
``furriner.'' The Hon. Sam was almost
beside himself with excitement; now and
then some man with whom he had made
a bet would shout jeeringly at him and the
Hon. Sam would shout back defiance. But
when the trumpet sounded he sat leaning
forward with his brow wrinkled and his
big hands clinched tight. Marston sped
up the course first--three rings--and there
was a chorus of applauding yells.

``His horse is gittin' tired,'' said the
Hon. Sam jubilantly, and the Blight's face,
I noticed, showed for the first time faint
traces of indignation. The Knight of the
Cumberland was taking no theatrical
chances now and he came through the
course with level spear and, with three
rings on it, he shot by like a thunderbolt.

``Hooray!'' shouted the Hon. Sam.
``Lord, what a horse!'' For the first time
the Blight, I observed, failed to applaud,
while Mollie was clapping her hands and
Buck was giving out shrill yells of
encouragement. At the next tilt the Hon.
Sam had his watch in his hand and when
he saw the Discarded digging in his spurs
he began to smile and he was looking at