Alcyesta’s chariot was black, but rich in traceries of silver and painted flower ornaments. She wore a pink robe, with a silver agraffe and girdle, set with pearls and turquoise. Pink and white cords trimmed her whip and tied the horns of the caribou. For an instant the chariots moved side by side, the women giving free rein, but withholding the whips. At the first quarter, Ildiko led slightly; but in attempting to round the curve of the half-goal, Alcyesta caught a wheel in the post, snapping it in two, like so much straw. With such momentum, it was not possible to check the speed, and before either could prevent it the horns of Ildiko’s and Alcyesta’s teams were tightly interlocked. Instantly there was a terrific hubbub. Men from all sides ran to their assistance. “Let us race it out!” cried Ildiko. “Agreed!” answered Alcyesta; and both women laid on the lash forcibly, scorching the ground with their flying wheels. “Keep clear! Give them leeway!” shouted the cazique, charging the crowd with his horse. The caribou had shaken themselves loose. “It is a splendid race!” cried the judges, as the last quarter stake was passed. “Run, Ildiko!” “Use thy whip, Kerœcia! Thou must not let them beat thee after all!” “Give them their heads, Alcyesta! Thy reins are too tight!” The women were leaning forward talking to the nervy roadsters, with hair flying over their shoulders, ribbons fluttering, and the wheels fairly singing as they flew past the chalk-line. “It is an open race for the cup. Kerœcia took no advantage. Now she must run for it!” And she did. Saphis and Phoda knew her voice. They caught her impulse as she loosed the rein, and they went like the wind. “Crack! crack!” snapped her tiny whiplash. It seemed as if the caribou would jump out of their skins. Not being accustomed to the whip, they were much more frightened by its noise than by the sting of its lash. Theirs was simply a mad headlong plunge forward, taken in time to clear the first goal. Ildiko and Alcyesta had enough to do in preventing a break as their knowing animals neared the scene of their former mishap. They were fearless runners, and responded gamely to the lash; but there was an imperceptible hesitation, a disposition to shy, and Kerœcia whipped in a full neck ahead. On she went around the ring, unable to control her terror-stricken team. It was the whip laid on their tender backs for the second time which rendered them unmanageable. “Hold them steady until they calm down,” advised the cazique, galloping beside her. Setos and Alcamayn hastened to Ildiko, assisting her to alight, while Ben Hu Barabe carried his wife through the crowd and set her down in safety before turning his attention to Kerœcia. “Ho, Saphis! Ho, Phoda! Fear not, little ones! Thou hast done nobly! Steady! Steady now! Ho! Ho!”