Somehow the animal seemed bent on doing its best, though the more it
strove to reach the goal, the greater was the fat boy's torture.
Stacy Brown's grit was aroused. He seemed to have come into his own
at last.
"They laughed at me," he muttered. "I'll show them that Chunky Brown
isn't a tenderfoot. Even if I don't win the race, there will be some
others who will finish after I get through." He was reasonably
certain of this from his present position. "But I hope I don't fall
in," he grinned.
By this time the dust caused by their first trip over the course, had
settled so that the spectators were enabled to get a view of the last
quarter of the race. And they all admitted, without exception, that it
was a real race that they were watching.
Over the last hurdle went two ponies in beautiful curving leaps, ahead
of all the others. With their cowboy riders they took the obstruction
neck and neck. A full length behind them rode Stacy with the rest of
the field strung out to his rear.
The spectators were able to identify the black now from their point of
vantage, and Stacy could hear their cheers, though unaware that these
were for him. Tad Butler, second to him in the race, was getting
every ounce of speed from his pony that the animal possessed. Yet
instead of feeling chagrin over the fact that his companion was
out-footing him, Tad was elated.
Pages:
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151