"On'y when 'e's racin', miss. 'E don't like to see nothin' in front of 'im. I expect you'll be surprised at the pace 'e goes, an' think 'e's runnin' away. But 'e ain't really, you know," he added reassuringly; "'is manners is too good to bolt with anybody, let alone a lady." He chuckled at his joke as he helped Gay into the wagon, which was a boat-shaped Benjamin, weighing 46 lbs., the body much like the seat of an outrigger boat, with rounded ends to break the wind. She made a very pretty picture as she sat in the wagon, excitement and the bloom of health showing in her face. As Tugwood led the horse on to the track, in accordance with instructions, she slipped her wrists through the loops in the reins, and planted her feet firmly against the foot-rests. "Don't be nervous, miss," Tugwood urged. "Just keep a nice steady hold on 'im, an' keep in the middle of the track. Time enough to think of cuttin' the corners when you know more about it." Gay had no intention of cutting the corners, and devoutly hoped that Silver Streak had none either, as Tugwood stepped to one side. "Jog him, miss," he said, "and gradually let 'im out." Gay did as she was told. Silver Streak "got into his stride" with a suddenness that was a little disconcerting, ready as she thought she was for it, and the wagon shot forward, while her arms felt as though they were being pulled from their sockets. Shifting her position as soon as she had recovered her balance, she hung on to the reins like grim death, and steered for the middle of the track, as Silver Streak was evincing a partiality for the rails that spelled probable disaster at the bend, unable as she was to balance him properly. The horse stretched himself out to his work in grand style, and before they had rounded the first turn, Gay felt convinced he was running away. The pace was tremendous, while the wind whistled past her ears and made her face smart with its force. She took a pull at the horse after the way she had seen drivers do when pulling up after a "brush," before a race started, but at once felt the uselessness of it, and was not surprised when Silver Streak pulled back, though his pull was of considerably greater strength than hers, and resulted in another temporary loss of balance, this time nearly over the dash-board. The horse's hind feet were much too close to be pleasant, and she earnestly hoped he would not cast a shoe, which, for a certainty, must fly into her face, or so it seemed. Along the back stretch she cast a glance in Tugwood's direction, half expecting to see him brandishing his arms, or covering his eyes to avoid seeing her untimely end, but no such view met her gaze. On the contrary, he was leaning over the rails in an attitude that betokened an easy mind, and as she turned her head, he clapped his hands repeatedly, thus conveying to her the reassuring news that she was doing well.