"Is he going! He's going crazy! And listen to this! That black thing carried a big bunch of 'em into the fence and they're out of it! Only four in the race and we're away flying! Do you get that? Flying!" "Honest?" "Can't you hear the crowd hissing the rotten start?" "Well," said Hopwood, "it--it's about time I had a little luck." "That skate has got something besides luck with him to-day!" exclaimed the Kid. "I wonder now--did he try a powder after all? But no, he was quiet enough on the way to the post." Seeing nothing ahead of him but mud and water, Jockey Gillis steered Last Chance toward the inner rail. "Don't you quit on me, you crab!" he muttered. "Don't you quit! Keep goin' if you don't want me to put the bee on you again! Hi-ya!" Montezuma, Bluestone, and Stuffy Eaton were the other survivors--bad horses all. Their riders, realizing that something had happened to the real contenders, drove them hard and on the upper turn Jockey Gillis, peering over his shoulder, saw that he was about to have competition. He began to boot Last Chance in the ribs, but the aged chestnut refused to respond to such ordinary treatment. "All right!" said Jockey Gillis, savagely. "If you won't run for the spurs, you'll run for _this_!" And he drove his clenched fist against the horse's shoulder. Last Chance grunted and did his best to leap out from under his tormentor. Failing in this he spurted crazily and the gap widened. "There it goes again!" muttered the Kid, under his breath. "He's pretty raw with it. Now if the judges notice the way that horse is running they may frisk Calamity for an electric battery and if they find one on him--good night!" "Where is he now?" demanded Hopwood. "Still in front--if he can stay there." "Honest--is he?" "_Ask_ anybody!" howled the Kid, in sudden anger. "You don't need to take my word for it!" At the paddock gate Last Chance was rocking from side to side with weariness and the pursuit was closing in on him. Jockey Gillis measured the distance to the wire and waited until Montezuma and Bluestone drew alongside. Twenty-five feet from home his fist thumped Last Chance on the shoulder again. The big chestnut answered with a frenzied bound and came floundering under the wire, a winner by a neck. "He won!" cried Hopwood. "That--that was him in front, wasn't it?" "That was what's left of him," was the response. "Maybe we'd better not cheer until the judges give us the 'official' on those numbers. I've got a hunch they may want to see Jock Gillis in the stand." And to himself: "The fool! He handed it to him again right under their noses! Does he think the judges are cockeyed too?" "Here's our chance to get rid of the grocer," said the presiding judge to his associate. "Did you notice the way that horse acted? The boy's got a battery on him, sure as guns!"