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Gradually all became quiet； till； in the midst of absolute
stillness； came the words； 'Are you ready？'； then the pistol…shot
and the great race had begun。 Above the roar of the crowd came the
shrill cry of Baptiste； as he struck his broncho with the palm of
his hand； and swung himself into the sleigh beside Sandy； as it
shot past。
Like a flash the bronchos sprang to the front； two lengths before
the other teams； but； terrified by the yelling of the crowd；
instead of bending to the left bank up which the road wound； they
wheeled to the right and were almost across the river before Sandy
could swing them back into the course。
Baptiste's cries； a curious mixture of French and English；
continued to strike through all other sounds till they gained the
top of the slope to find the others almost a hundred yards in
front； the citizens' team leading； with the miners' following
close。 The moment the pintos caught sight of the teams before them
they set off at a terrific pace and steadily devoured the
intervening space。 Nearer and nearer the turn came； the eight
horses in front； running straight and well within their speed。
After them flew the pintos； running savagely with ears set back；
leading well the big roans； thundering along and gaining at every
bound。 And now the citizens' team had almost reached the Fort；
running hard； and drawing away from the bays。 But Nixon knew what
he was about； and was simply steadying his team for the turn。 The
event proved his wisdom； for in the turn the leading team left the
track； lost a moment or two in the deep snow； and before they could
regain the road the bays had swept superbly past； leaving their
rivals to follow in the rear。 On came the pintos； swiftly nearing
the Fort。 Surely at that pace they cannot make the turn。 But
Sandy knows his leaders。 They have their eyes upon the teams in
front； and need no touch of rein。 Without the slightest change in
speed the nimble…footed bronchos round the turn； hauling the big
roans after them； and fall in behind the citizens' team； which is
regaining steadily the ground lost in the turn。
And now the struggle is for the bridge over the ravine。 The bays
in front； running with mouths wide open； are evidently doing their
best； behind them； and every moment nearing them； but at the limit
of their speed too； come the lighter and fleeter citizens' team；
while opposite their driver are the pintos； pulling hard； eager and
fresh。 Their temper is too uncertain to send them to the front；
they run well following； but when leading cannot be trusted； and
besides； a broncho hates a bridge； so Sandy holds them where they
are； waiting and hoping for his chance after the bridge is crossed。
Foot by foot the citizens' team creep up upon the flank of the
bays； with the pintos in turn hugging them closely； till it seems
as if the three； if none slackens； must strike the bridge together；
and this will mean destruction to one at least。 This danger Sandy
perceives； but he dare not check his leaders。 Suddenly； within a
few yards of the bridge； Baptiste throws himself upon the lines；
wrenches them out of Sandy's hands； and； with a quick swing； faces
the pintos down the steep side of the ravine； which is almost sheer
ice with a thin coat of snow。 It is a daring course to take； for
the ravine； though not deep； is full of undergrowth； and is
partially closed up by a brush heap at the further end。 But； with
a yell； Baptiste hurls his four horses down the slope； and into the
undergrowth。 'Allons； mes enfants！ Courage！ vite； vite！' cries
their driver； and nobly do the pintos respond。 Regardless of
bushes and brush heaps； they tear their way through； but； as they
emerge； the hind bob…sleigh catches a root； and； with a crash； the
sleigh is hurled high in the air。 Baptiste's cries ring out high
and shrill as ever； encouraging his team； and never cease till；
with a plunge and a scramble； they clear the brush heap lying at
the mouth of the ravine； and are out on the ice on the river； with
Baptiste standing on the front bob； the box trailing behind； and
Sandy nowhere to be seen。
Three hundred yards of the course remain。 The bays； perfectly
handled； have gained at the bridge and in the descent to the ice；
and are leading the citizens' team by half a dozen sleigh lengths。
Behind both comes Baptiste。 It is now or never for the pintos。
The rattle of the trailing box； together with the wild yelling of
the crowd rushing down the bank； excites the bronchos to madness；
and； taking the bits in their teeth； they do their first free
running that day。 Past the citizens' team like a whirlwind they
dash； clear the intervening space； and gain the flanks of the bays。
Can the bays hold them？ Over them leans their driver； plying for
the first time the hissing lash。 Only fifty yards more。 The
miners begin to yell。 But Baptiste； waving his lines high in one
hand seizes his tuque with the other； whirls it about his head and
flings it with a fiercer yell than ever at the bronchos。 Like the
bursting of a hurricane the pintos leap forward； and with a
splendid rush cross the scratch； winners by their own length。
There was a wild quarter of an hour。 The shantymen had torn off
their coats and were waving them wildly and tossing them high；
while the ranchers added to the uproar by emptying their revolvers
into the air in a way that made one nervous。
When the crowd was somewhat quieted Sandy's stiff figure appeared；
slowly making towards them。 A dozen lumbermen ran to him； eagerly
inquiring if he were hurt。 But Sandy could only curse the little
Frenchman for losing the race。
'Lost！ Why； man； we've won it！' shouted a voice； at which Sandy's
rage vanished； and he allowed himself to be carried in upon the
shoulders of his admirers。
'Where's the lad？' was his first question。
The bronchos are off with him。 He's down at the rapids like
enough。'
'Let me go；' shouted Sandy； setting off at a run in the track of
the sleigh。 He had not gone far before he met Baptiste coming back
with his team foaming； the roans going quietly； but the bronchos
dancing； and eager to be at it again。
'Voila！ bully boy！ tank the bon Dieu； Sandy； you not keel； heh？
Ah！ you are one grand chevalier；' exclaimed Baptiste； hauling Sandy
in and thrusting the lines into his hands。 And so they came back；
the sleigh box still dragging behind； the pintos executing
fantastic figures on their hind legs； and Sandy holding them down。
The little Frenchman struck a dramatic attitude and called out
'Voila！ What's the matter wiz Sandy； heh？'
The roar that answered set the bronchos off again plunging and
kicking； and only when Baptiste got them by the heads could they be
induced to stand long enough to allow Sandy to be proclaimed winner
of the race。 Several of the lumbermen sprang into the sleigh box
with Sandy and Baptiste； among them Keefe； followed by Nelson； and
the first part of the great day was over。 Slavin could not
understand the new order of things。 That a great event like the
four…horse race should not be followed by 'drinks all round' was to
him at once disgusting and incomprehensible； and； realising his
defeat for the moment； he fell into the crowd and disappeared。 But
he left behind him his 'runners。' He had not yet thrown up the
game。
Mr。 Craig meantime came to me； and； looking anxiously after Sandy
in his sleigh； with his frantic crowd of yelling admirers； said in
a gloomy voice； 'Poor Sandy！ He is easily caught； and Keefe has
the devil's cunning。'
'He won't touch Slavin's whisky to…day；' I answered confidently。
'There'll be twenty bottles waiting him in the stable；' he replied
bitterly； 'and I can't go following him up。'
'He won't stand that； no man would。 God help us all。' I could
hardly recognise myself； for I found in my heart an earnest echo to
that prayer as I watched him go toward the crowd again； his face
set in strong determination。 He looked like the captain of a
forlorn hope； and I was proud to be following him。
CHAPTER III
WATERLOO。 OUR FIGHTHIS VICTORY
The sports were over； and there remained still an hour to be filled
in before dinner。 It was an hour full of danger to Craig's hopes
of victory； for the men were wild with excitement； and ready for
the most reckless means of 'slinging their dust。' I could not but
admire the skill with which Mr。 Craig caught their attention。
'Gentlemen；' he called out； 'we've forgotten the judge of the great
race。 Three cheers for Mr。 Connor！'
Two of the shantymen picked me up and hoisted me on their shoulders
while the cheers were given。
'Announce the Punch and Judy；' he entreated me； in a low voice。 I
did so in a little speech； and was forthwith borne aloft； through
the street to the booth； followed by the whole crowd； cheering like
mad。
The excitement of the crowd caught me； and for an hour I squeaked
and worked the wires of the immortal and unhappy family in a manner
hitherto unapproached by me at least。 I was glad enough when
Graeme came to tell me to send the men in to dinner。 This Mr。
Punch did in the most gracious manner； and again with cheers for
Punch's master they tro