'
'He won't touch Slavin's whisky to-day,' I answered confidently.
'There'll be twenty bottles waiting him in the stable,' he replied
bitterly, 'and I can't go following him up.'
'He won't stand that, no man would. God help us all.' I could hardly
recognise myself, for I found in my heart an earnest echo to that prayer
as I watched him go toward the crowd again, his face set in strong
determination. He looked like the captain of a forlorn hope, and I was
proud to be following him.
CHAPTER III
WATERLOO. OUR FIGHT--HIS VICTORY
The sports were over, and there remained still an hour to be filled
in before dinner. It was an hour full of danger to Craig's hopes of
victory, for the men were wild with excitement, and ready for the most
reckless means of 'slinging their dust.' I could not but admire the
skill with which Mr. Craig caught their attention.
'Gentlemen,' he called out, 'we've forgotten the judge of the great
race. Three cheers for Mr. Connor!'
Two of the shantymen picked me up and hoisted me on their shoulders
while the cheers were given.
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