wi 
Little Warhorse 
At another time Jack would have thumped 
his skull, as he once did the Cat’s, and settled 
the affair in a minute; but now it took several 
minutes, during which he himself got roughly 
handled; so when the afternoon came he was 
suffering from one or two bruises and stiffening 
wounds; not serious, indeed, but enough to 
lower his speed. 
The start was much like those of previous 
runs. The Warhorse steaming away low and 
lightly, his ears up and the breezes whistling 
through his thirteen stars. 
Minkie with Fango, the new Dog, bounded 
in eager pursuit, but, to the surprise of the 
starters, the gap grew smaller. The Warhorse 
was losing ground, and nght before the Grand 
Stand old Minkie turned him, and a cheer 
went up from the dog-men, for all knew the 
runners. Within fifty yards Fango scored a 
turn, and the race was right back to the start. 
There stood Slyman and Mickey. The Rab- 
bit dodged, the Greyhounds plunged; Jack 
could not get away, and just as the final snap 
seemed near, the Warhorse leaped straight 
for Mickey, and in an instant was hidden in his 
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