At moonrise Fort Marshall lay close on the right, And still my stout galloper sped through the night, With nostrils dilated, stretched neck, and clenched teeth, While his hoofs dashed the dew from the grass underneath In ceaseless, monotonous, regular beat, Till Sandwhlana lay steeped in white mist at my feet. Rorke’s Drift and the Buffalo River were nigh, When a bank of black clouds rose and darkened the sky; The bright moon was hidden, and hidden each mark, And I came near to missing the ford in the dark: As we left the cold river I patted my steed, And urged him again to his uttermost speed. On, on still I rode, as the wild huntsman rides: In the dawn I could just see the foam-covered sides, See the head sinking low, see the staggering knees, Feel the shudder that shook him as wind shakes the trees; Yet onward he struggled with fast-failing strength, And safe into Landsman’s Drift galloped at length. And all I remembered was, “Now it is done; I was first with the news of the victory won; And no voice but will praise this long gallop of mine, When ’tis talked of at breakfast or over the wine.” ODD FISH (Mr. Charles McIntyre). ―――― HOW I WON THE CHALLENGE SHIELD. I sprang to the saddle and Wheeler and Lea; I treadled, Lea treadled, we treadled all three: “Five mile!” cried the judge, decked in rosette of blue; Whiz! went our front wheels as past him we flew: And loud were the public with cheer and with jest, As round the first lap we sped on abreast. Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace Yard by yard, wheel by wheel, never changing our place: And firm in my saddle――prepared for each swerve―― I steadied each muscle and braced up my nerve, Reserving my whole strength, kept pace with the two, And neither was favourite, at least to the view. We were scratch all at starting; but when we drew near The first mile I led, amid deafening cheer; At two the “crack” wheeler was the first of the three; The third mile was led by the resolute Lea; And from ropes and pavilion was heard the loud roar As the judge’s gruff voice gave the mileage at “Four!” At five miles I spurted and kept up the run, And gained the lost lead that the others had won, And bent o’er my wheel and went inch by inch past My sturdy opponents and left them at last, With sure-footed pedals each spinning away, And still on the watch like a cat for its prey. I now kept the inside and heard them at my back―― Saw their shadows athwart on the smooth cinder track, And each eye’s sharp look-out lest they neared on the right, Kept my bi. well in hand as each wheel came in sight; And the roar of the people which aye and anon Would quicken each pedal and hasten it on.