"You ole fool nigger!" came Blister's muffled voice.
Even at that distance I could have told which one was last. The same
effortless floating stride I had noticed long ago was hers as Tres
Jolie, foot by foot, ate up the gap. At the far turn she caught the
stragglers and one by one she cut them down.
"Oh, gallant spirit!" I thought. "If they had given you but half a
chance!"
I lost her among a melee of horses, on the turn, as the leader swung
into the stretch. It was the same red bay, but now the boy on the
black horse moved his hands forward a little and his mount came easily
to the leader's side. There was a short struggle between them and the
bay fell back.
"Mandarin's done!" cried the voice behind us. "Rob Roy on the bit!"
"I might have known it!" I thought bitterly. "He looked it all along."
Then a gentle buzzing sprang up like a breeze. It was a whisper that
grew to a muttering, and then became a rumble and at last one delirious
roar. The giant had recovered, and his mighty cry brought me to my
feet, my heart in my throat--for "_Tres Jolie_" he roared . . . and
coming! . . . coming!! . . . coming!!! . . . I saw the blue and gold!
A maniac rose among us and flung his fists above his head. He called
upon his gods--and then that magic name--"_Tres Jolie_," he shrieked:
"_Oh, Baby Doll_!" It was Blister--and I marveled.
[Illustration: "Tres Jolie!" he shrieked.]
I had seen him stand and lose his all without a sign of feeling.
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