Grasping the jockey by the shoulder, Bennet, who had utterly lost control of himself, and was wholly blind to consequences, shook him as a terrier shakes a rat. Bennet was a tall, athletic man, and the tiny figure of Bob Deans was as nothing to him. Instantly several of those standing about tried to interfere and separate the two men. But Bennet, who was now to all intents and purposes a madman, shook them off fiercely, without letting go his hold on Deans. "Leave me alone," the jockey spluttered, "or I'll give you away! Let me go!" "Let you go, you hound!" cried Bennet in a terrible voice, and, his face hideously distorted, he shouted, "By ----, I'll kill you!" The onlookers again strove to pull the two men apart, and succeeded sufficiently for Bob Deans to cry so that every one heard him-- "He wished me to pull the horse; he offered me a big bribe, but I would do nothing crooked." Bennet heard the words as well as the others. Putting forth all his strength, and quite beside himself, he sprang forward with uplifted fist, and catching the unfortunate jockey a frightful blow under the chin, felled him to the ground. Many now ran up to the group. Bob Deans was a popular jockey, and the victory of Go Nap had been popular. Soon there was a great crowd. A short examination showed that Bob Deans was dead. CHAPTER XXVIII The little jockey had ridden his last race! The blow which had struck him down had been delivered by one who had been a first-class athlete, and who was still in splendid physical condition. There had been the stark madness, too, of blind rage behind Bennet's arm, and the blow had proved fatal. When the truth was known, there instantly was a great commotion. Bennet made no effort to get away; if he had attempted to fly he would not have succeeded, for he was ringed round by hostile and stern faces that plainly spoke of vengeance. In a moment more hands were laid upon him by those of the crowd nearest him, but he offered no resistance. Instead, he stood staring at the motionless body of his victim, and appeared not to realize what he had done, and the position in which his act had placed him. Suddenly from somewhere in the crowd a loud cry went up of "Murder! Murder!" The cry seemed to break the fit of stupor in which Bennet was, for his face was seen to quiver, while a shudder shook his frame. "What have I done? What have I done?" he said, as if he had just become conscious of the deed he had committed. "You have killed him," replied one of those standing by. "He is not dead?" asked Bennet, wildly. "Dead! yes; he is dead, and you killed him!" answered the same man. "I never meant to kill him," said Bennet, looking once more at the little figure that lay on the ground. "Why," said a voice, "I heard you say to him, 'I'll kill you!'--I heard you say those very words!" "I was in a passion," Bennet declared, "and did not know what I was doing. I never thought of killing him."