THE TRIAL 



63 



blew out very nicely. As the boy slipped the saddle 

 off her she rubbed him with her nose and whinnied. 

 Floyd patted her on the neck and called her "Old Gal," 

 but his face was as black as thunder. As the two boys 

 led the horses up and down the road he got in between 

 them. They conversed in low tones. I could not 

 hear what they said, and for that matter did not wish 

 to, as up to that point all the interest I took in the pro- 

 ceedings was the pleasure in seeing two horses gallop 

 at racing speed. 



In about twenty minutes the boys put on their 

 saddles again and mounted for another heat. Before 

 starting up the road the rider of Claret said to Floyd, 

 "If that were my mare I would try a whip or spur on 

 her." 



"Why?" said Floyd. 



"Well, I think," said the boy, "she has run so many 

 races at half a mile that she knows the distance and 

 will not try after she goes that far. She was not tired 

 when she came back, as when she passed you she had 

 Claret safe." 



"That is so," said the boy on Maud. "I have rode 

 her I do not know how many races and I have never 

 carried a whip or spur. She has always run on her 

 courage." 



"I do not doubt that a bit," replied Claret's rider, 

 "but you have now seen twice that she will not go 

 after half a mile and if she won't go in her work she 

 won't do it in a race." 



"Do not be too sure of that," broke in Floyd. 

 "When she sees the crowd and hears the shouting she 

 will run till she drops." 



