jumped forward in answer to this urge. At the same time there was born in his consciousness a new idea. It was not all his though, but was a part of his inheritance; an idea which came down through his blood from his Arabian ancestors, and from his great-grandfather who had broken the world's record at Churchill Downs. This was a race he was in; his master wanted him to beat the other horses; so immediately he lengthened his stride and quickened the beat of his hoofs.
In a hundred feet he had passed Bill, in a hundred feet more he had passed Long Tom and in the last hundred feet he shot past the Jack Rabbit like a whirlwind and finished a whole length ahead.
"Great jumping horn spoon!" cried Pony, pulling up fifty feet beyond the scratch. "That hoss didn't beat the Jack Rabbit, did he?"
"That's what he did," replied Hank Brodie. "Beat him by a length."
"There's some mistake about it," protested Pony. "Me and the Jack Rabbit didn't get a good start."
"Yes, you did," returned Hank. "We were watching you through the glass and you led by four lengths up to the quarter."
"Well, he couldn't do it again," said Pony. "Let's try again."
"No, I guess that is enough for to-night," returned Hank Brodie, "but if you tried it again and Larry gave
