The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1892-03-05

could" He muttered the words over
twenty times. It was not until the tree
was reached and the horse was halted
with his head toward the spot where
Feversham, discernible far off between
the lines, sat waiting, that he started
reused himself and looked about him.
David Dare was standing on his r1ght'
stripped to the waist and without his
shoes, ready for the starters signal.
Quixarvyn's guards dropped the horses
bride; and Sergeant John, who stood
between the two competitors, drew a
pistol from his belt to give the signal.
The excitement at that moment was
intense. Not a sound was heard In the
still morning air; but all down the
double line were faces fixed intently on
the two competitors. Feversham and
the major, with glasses to their eyes, sat
motionless as statues. Even the con-
demned men, forgetful of their own ap-
preaching doom, stretched their necks
to catch glimpse of the strange con-
test on which depended life and death
for two of their companions.
The sergeant raised his pistol. The
report rang out.
At the same instant horse and man
shot out together from the mark. At
first the runner, practiced in flying from
the start and having less momentum
than the horse, drew out in front, In a
few seconds he was some twenty yards
ahead Then the gap between them
ceased to widen, then it was seen to be
decreasing; the horse was gaining
slowly at first, but gaining surely stride
by stride When half the course was
covered the horse had drawn up level,
and then came such race as had never
yet been seen. For hundred yards and
more the two ran locked together, side
by side, the runner almost flying over
the crisp turf, the horse stretched out in
fierce gallop, with the rider standing
in the stirrups. And now the goal was
only fifty yards away, but the gazers
drew deep breath as they saw that
now the horse was gaining-was draw
ing out in front.
For an instant it seemed that all was
over; the next, to their amazement, they
were conscious that the horse was fall
ing. Then they saw gallant sight;
they saw the runner nerve himself to the
last effort and, close upon the goal, dash
past the horse and PASS the judges and
fall headlong on the turf.
At that scene, in spite of discipline,
frantic cheer broke forth along the line.
Even Feversham himself smiled grimly
as one who, though he had just lost a
bet, had gained its full equivalent in
pleasurable excitement.
The winner, who had fallen painting
and exhausted, was raised into sitting
posture by two troopers, one Of whom
poured draft of brandy down his
throat. The spirits almost instantly re-
vived him, and in a few seconds he was
able, though still weak and dizzy, to
stand upon his feet and look about him.
A few PAGES off his beaten rival stood
beside lis horse. Dare looked at him
and their eyes met. Quixarvyn's face
bore an almost imperceptible smile; but
it was not this, but something in his
look which the other could not have
defined, which struck him backward
like shock. Hestaggered back pace
or two, bewildered by the light which
broke upon his mind. Then he stepped
up to his rivals side, and the guards,
who saw no cause to interfere, falling
back little, he put his mouth close to
Quixarvyns ear:
''You pulled that horse" he said.
Quixarvyn looked at him, but an
swered not word
"You let me win," the other went on,
his voice breaking. For her sake you
did,"
Quixarvyn drove his nails into his
palms; he had acted, he was acting, not
without bitter cost.
"Make her happy" he said briefly.
AS he spoke he turned away and strobe
swiftly to his old position at the head of
the line of prisoners, before which the
firing party was again drawn up.
Dare turned his back upon the scene
and thrust his fingers in his ears. New
ertheless he could still hear with hor-
rible distinctness the sergeant's loud,
clear voice, with an interval between
the words:
"Readyp
present."
"Firer'
Almost as the word was given came
the crash of the report. Moved by an
impulse which he could not conquer, he
turned around with a shudder. The
soldiers were lowering their smoking
,muskets, and thick white cloud hung
above the line of prisoners stretched
upon the ground. At the extremity of
the line Quixarvyn lay upon his face,
with his right hand clenched upon
portrait which he had taken from his
breast, and with bullet through his
heart.-H. Greenhough Smith in Strand
Magazine.
The Horrors of Sport.
''Sport" is horrible. say it advised