second with perhaps a mile to go. Then the fight began.

Yard by yard the speed increased, and yard by yard the black stallion
drew ahead. Now in front of them lay a furlong or more of bad ice
encumbered with lumps of frozen snow that had not been cleared away,
which caused the sleigh to shake and jump as it struck. Lysbeth looked
round.

"The Badger is coming up," she said.

Montalvo heard, and for the first time laid his whip upon the haunches
of his horse, which answered gallantly. But still the Badger came up.
The grey was the stronger beast, and had begun to put out his strength.
Presently his ugly head was behind them, for Lysbeth felt the breath
from his nostrils blowing on her, and saw their steam. Then it was past,
for the steam blew back into her face; yes, and she could see the eager
eyes of the child in the grey sledge. Now they were neck and neck, and
the rough ice was done with. Six hundred yards away, not more, lay the
goal, and all about them, outside the line of the course, were swift
skaters travelling so fast that their heads were bent forward and down
to within three feet of the ice.

Van de Werff called to his horse, and the grey began to gain. Montalvo
lashed the stallion, and once more they passed him. But the black was
failing, and he saw it, for Lysbeth heard him curse in Spanish. Then of
a sudden, after a cunning glance at his adversary, the Count pulled upon
the right rein, and a shrill voice rose upon the air, the voice of the
little girl in the other sledge.

"Take care, brother," it cried, "he will overthrow us."