"Slick-heels Saul's face is turnin' the color of me native isle,"
chuckled Irish Mike. "Patty, me little ladybird, 'tis no time to be
faintin'!"

"Oh, you can't know - "

"Faith, an' I know more than you t'ink. Bear up, Asthore, the darkest
hour is just forninst the dawn. Whisht, now! They're off!"

"Here they come! The black is ahead! See, the nigger is lying flat on
the mare's neck. She's closing up! Oh, they are neck and neck! I cannot
look. Eric - The black is getting the whip. Good horse! They are even
again! Ah, it is only for a moment. The mare ... is over the line,
first ... It is all ended, life, love, honor, happiness ... I cannot
belong to that man! My poor old father. Dear old ... for his sake, I
must. I - "

"Patty, girl."

"Eric, you are not to blame. You would wager on your own horse. 'Tis but
natural. I must accept my fate with what fortitude I can summon. Please
take me home. All the people staring. I cannot bear it long."

But when Slick-heels Saul pressed forward to her side at the
boarding-house steps, she was as stately and cold as the snow-hooded
rocks of Granite Mountain.

"I have lost everything, but still I hold you to your promise."