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Little Warhorse 
arms, while the starter’s feet flew out in ener- 
getic kicks to repel the furious Dogs. It is not 
likely that the Jack knew Mickey for a friend; 
he only yielded to the old instinct to fly from a 
certain enemy to a neutral or a possible friend, 
and, as luck would have it, he had wisely leaped 
and well. A cheer went up from the benches 
as Mickey hurried back with his favorite. 
But the dog-men protested ‘‘it was n’t a fair 
run—they wanted it finished.” They appealed 
to the Steward. He had backed the Jack 
against Fango. He was sore now, and ordered 
a new race. 
An hour’s rest was the best Mickey could get 
for him. Then he went as before, with Fango 
and Minkie in pursuit. He seemed less stiff 
now—he ran more like himself; but a little past 
the Stand he was turned by Fango and again 
by Minkie, and back and across, and here and 
there, leaping frantically and barely eluding his 
foes. For several minutes it lasted. Mickey 
could see that Jack’s ears were sinking. The new 
Dog leaped. Jack dodged almost under him to 
escape, and back only to meet the second Dog; 
and now both ears were flat on his back. But 
250 
