Gay's horse was therefore harnessed to the speed wagon; she took her place in it, and Rensslaer tucked her well in with a light rug. But all this took time. The moment of the start for the final was long past; in fact a stout young man had been shouting "Get on your marks," in a voice like a bull for some time, when suddenly Gay appeared on the track behind her horse, and after a moment's stupefied silence, a deafening cheer rang out, succeeded by another, and another. CHAPTER XVI GAY DISGRACES HERSELF There was no time to warm up the horse; she had to trot down fast to her mark, overshot it some forty yards, and swung her horse round in a hurry, spurting to get up to her mark, as she saw "Uncle's" back with upraised pistol. It was fortunate she did so, as at that moment the pistol went off, and she was at top speed on to her mark as the pistol was fired, Mackrell's horse being at a standstill at the same mark (they were both scratch mark horses, you may remember), she having the outside position. Mackrell's horse was into his stride in a moment, however; Gay and Mac raced side by side after the leaders. There were, of course, only four horses in this final, one of the leaders being the old ex-American hobbled pacer, Birmingham Joe, who had 200 yards' start of Gay and Mac, the fourth horse being the trotter Our Tom, with 150 yards' start. Gay's and Mackrell's horses trotted side by side like a pair, rapidly overtaking the two leaders, but Gay could see out of the corner of her eye that Mackrell was holding his horse, and could at any time draw clear of her if he liked. At the turn he pulled slightly back, and let her take the inside, and there came an ominous jeer from the spectators when they saw him giving way, instead of keeping the advantage he had gained. The moment, however, they were round the turn, he drew up level again on the outside, when suddenly his horse made a most disastrous break (a horse noted for never breaking), and every time Mac tried to catch him, he went off into a worse break, till finally he cantered in a long way last, the horse refusing to trot. Gay, of course, saw nothing of this, she only knew that Mackrell's horse had suddenly fallen back, and that she was gaining hand over hand on the trotter Our Tom in front. She passed him as she went round the track the second time, and calling on her horse, she saw him stretch out his neck still further, and lower himself till he seemed inches lower than his proper height, whilst he began to sway his head slightly from side to side, as he reached his utmost in each stroke.