the great day was over. Slavin could not understand the new order
of things. That a great event like the four-horse race should not
be followed by 'drinks all round' was to him at once disgusting and
incomprehensible; and, realising his defeat for the moment, he fell into
the crowd and disappeared. But he left behind him his 'runners.' He had
not yet thrown up the game.

Mr. Craig meantime came to me, and, looking anxiously after Sandy in
his sleigh, with his frantic crowd of yelling admirers, said in a gloomy
voice, 'Poor Sandy! He is easily caught, and Keefe has the devil's
cunning.'

'He won't touch Slavin's whisky to-day,' I answered confidently.

'There'll be twenty bottles waiting him in the stable,' he replied
bitterly, 'and I can't go following him up.'

'He won't stand that, no man would. God help us all.' I could hardly
recognise myself, for I found in my heart an earnest echo to that prayer
as I watched him go toward the crowd again, his face set in strong
determination. He looked like the captain of a forlorn hope, and I was
proud to be following him.


CHAPTER III

WATERLOO. OUR FIGHT--HIS VICTORY


The sports were over, and there remained still an hour to be filled