Page 278 (1/2)

"Give way, Slingsby!" shouts Sir Mortio his spurs

"Pull over, Slingsby!" shouts Sir Mortiad! Pull over yourself," roars the Captain "Give way,

Carnaby--I have you by a head!"

An exultant yell froe shout froallant sorrel is lying a twisted,

kicking heap, with Captain Slingsby pinned beneath

"What, Beverley!" he cries, coad! After him! The 'Rascal' 's done for, poor devil! So am I,

--it's you or Carnaby now--ride, Beverley, ride!" And so, as Barnabas

flashes past and over hisby of the Guards sinks back,

and lies very white and still

A stake-fence, a hedge, a ditch, and beyond that a clear stretch to

the winning-post

At the fence, Carnaby sees "The Terror's" black head soe, Barnabas has lessened the six to three; and at

the ditch once again the great, black horse gallops half a length

behind the powerful gray And now, louder and louder, shouts coray! Carnaby's 'Clasher' wins! 'Clasher'!

'Clasher'!"

But, slowly and by degrees, the cries sink to a reat, black horse is this which, despite Carnaby's

flailing whip and cruel, rowelling spur, is slowly, surely creeping

up with the laboring gray? Who is this, a wild, bare-headed figure,

grim and bloody, stained with s a crushed and fading rose?

Down the stretch they race, the black and the gray, panting, sobbing,