Just in front of Lauzanne, with swinging stride raced the brown mare,
waiting till the Chestnut should drop back beaten, to take up the
running with Diablo. That was Carter's good judgment; and he rode as
though it were the Derby, and he was nursing his mount for the last call
at the finish.
At the three quarters Lauzanne and Diablo were neck and neck; at the
half, the Black was lapped on Lucretia; another furlong and she was
laboring to keep her place, nose and nose with him.
"I'm done," panted Carter, feeling the mare swerve and falter; "I'm
done--God help us!"
Still there was no check in the Black's gallop; he was like a devil that
could go on forever and ever.
They had turned into the straight with Lucretia a neck to the bad, when
Carter heard the girl's voice faintly calling, "Pull out, Ned!" The boy
thought it fancy. Lauzanne the Despised couldn't be there at their
heels. He had thought him beaten off long ago. But again the voice
came, a little stronger, "Pull out, Ned!"
This time there was no mistake. It might be a miracle, but it was his
duty to obey. As he galloped, Carter edged Lucretia to the right.
Without looking back he could feel Lauzanne creeping up between him and
Diablo.
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