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360 yards. Those who were watching the race became fearfully excited, and whenever the woman would succeed in passing one of the racers, they would make the welkin ring with their shouts of joy and encouragement.

"Who is she?" was asked on all sides, but no one answered the question.

It is not my intention to give a description of the snow-shoe race, nor to paint a picture of the exciting contest. I only allude to it for the purpose of giving the reader a clue to what is yet to come. The race was soon over, and was won by the mysterious female, who had been materially aided by the wind catching in the skirts of her dress.

Perhaps her success may partially have been caused by the gallantry of the other contestants, who thought it would be ungentlemanly to beat a woman. But of this we cannot speak knowingly.

There were but two or three females on Rabbit Creek at the time of which we write, and consequently great curiosity prevailed to learn which one had entered the lists and carried off the prize, and no sooner had the contestants crossed the home mark than the crowd rushed forward and surrounded them.

"Who is she?" cried a dozen voices, the owners of which were pushing with might and main to get a glimpse of the lady's features.

The victor threw back the bonnet and veil that covered and concealed her features, and revealed the face of a man, bearded like a pard.

"Oh, pshaw! 'taint no woman, after all!" exclaimed