over. The shuffle of many feet hastening madly, the crash of eager
heels down the wooden steps, a surging, pushing, as the wolf-pack
blocked each passage in its thirstful rush for the gold it had won, told
her that the race was over.

No one knew which horse had won. Presently a quiet came over the mob
like a lull in a storm. Silently they waited for the winning number to
go up.

"I believe it's a dead heat," said Porter; and Allis noted how calm and
restful his voice sounded after the exultant babel of the hoarse-
throated watchers.

"Where was Lucretia, father?"

"Third," he answered, laconically, schooling his voice to indifference.
"I hope it's a dead heat, for if Lauzanne gets the verdict I've got to
take him. I don't want him after that run; they made him a present of
the race at the start, and he only just squeezed home."

"Why must you take the horse, father, if you don't want him? I don't
understand."

"I suppose there's no law for it--I said I would, that's all. The whole
thing is crooked though; they stole the race from Lucretia and planted
me with a dope horse, and hanged if I don't feel like backing out. Let
Langdon go before the Stewards about the sale if he dare."

"Did you give your word that you'd buy the horse, father?"