But in five minutes Lucretia's owner was back in the paddock with the
cheerful intelligence that the mare was now three to five.

"I wouldn't back 'Salvator' among a lot of cart horses at that price,"
commented Dixon; "leave it alone, an' we'll go for the Stake. We're up
against it good and hard; somebody seems to know more about our own
horse than we do ourselves"

"I think myself that the gods are angry with us, Dixon," said Porter
moodily; "and the mortals will be furious, too, whichever way the race
goes. They've backed the little mare at this short price no doubt, an'
if she's beaten they'll howl; if she wins they'll swear my money was on
to-day, and that I pulled her in her last race."

John Porter sat in the Grand Stand with his usual companion, Allis,
beside him, as The Dutchman, Lucretia, and the other Eclipse horses
passed down the broad spread of the straight Eclipse course to the five-
and-a-half furlong post.

Though Porter had missed his betting, he intuitively felt the joy of an
anticipated win. Only a true lover of thoroughbreds can know anything
of the mad tumult of exultation that vibrates the heart strings as a
loved horse comes bravely, gallantly out from the surging throng of his
rivals, peerless and king of them all, stretching his tapered neck with
eager striving, and goes onward, past the tribunal, first and alone, the
leader, the winner, the one to be cheered of the many thousands wrought
to frenzy by his conquest.

"Surely Lucretia will win to-day, father--don't you think so?" asked