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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 trooped tumultuously into the tent。
We had only well begun when Baptiste came in quietly but hurriedly
and whispered to me
'M'sieu Craig； he's gone to Slavin's； and would lak you and M'sieu
Graeme would follow queek。 Sandy he's take one leel drink up at de
stable； and he's go mad lak one diable。'
I sent him for Graeme； who was presiding at dinner； and set off for
Slavin's at a run。 There I found Mr。 Craig and Nelson holding
Sandy； more than half drunk； back from Slavin； who； stripped to the
shirt； was coolly waiting with a taunting smile。
'Let me go； Mr。 Craig；' Sandy was saying； 'I am a good Presbyterian。
He is a Papist thief； and he has my money； and I will have it out
of the soul of him。'
'Let him go； preacher；' sneered Slavin； 'I'll cool him off for yez。
But ye'd better hold him if yez wants his mug left on to him。'
'Let him go！' Keefe was shouting。
'Hands off！' Blaney was echoing。
I pushed my way in。 'What's up？' I cried。
'Mr。 Connor；' said Sandy solemnly； 'it is a gentleman you are；
though your name is against you； and I am a good Presbyterian；
and I can give you the Commandments and Reasons annexed to them；
but yon's a thief； a Papist thief； and I am justified in getting my
money out of his soul。'
'But；' I remonstrated； 'you won't get it in this way。'
'He has my money；' reiterated Sandy。
'He is a blank liar； and he's afraid to take it up；' said Slavin；
in a low； cool tone。
With a roar Sandy broke away and rushed at him； but； without moving
from his tracks； Slavin met him with a straight left…hander and
laid him flat。
'Hooray；' yelled Blaney； 'Ireland for ever！' and； seizing the iron
poker； swung it around his head； crying； 'Back； or； by the holy
Moses； I'll kill the first man that interferes wid the game。'
'Give it to him！' Keefe said savagely。
Sandy rose slowly； gazing round stupidly。
'He don't know what hit him；' laughed Keefe。
This roused the Highlander； and saying； 'I'll settle you afterwards；
Mister Keefe；' he rushed in again at Slavin。 Again