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Rh the winnin' post, neck an' neck, level as an arrer, an' then a few yards from 'ome, one of them drew six hinches a'ead o' the other. Which was it?"

"Bill," breathed both the thrilled, enraptured children, as they hung upon the words of this Ancient Mariner.

"No! It were not! That rakin', hugly roan 'ad forged a'ead. 'E was good at forgin', I reckon, and there 'e was, winnin' by a short 'ead,—by a bare six hinches. There was Bill, six hinches be'ind, strivin' 'is huttermost, doin' 'is damdest, an' never a hinch could 'e gain! Ruined,' I cries. Ruined! An' the 'omes of me fathers alaid in the dust—not ter mention the 'omes o' the Capting's fathers.' In another second they would sweep past the winnin'-post with that rakin', hugly roan six an' three quarter hinches in front. I was jest about ter close me eyes an' breathe a prayer for 'elp—when be'old, wot did I see? Bill shoved 'is bloomin' tongue out seven hinches, and won the rice by a quarter hinch! There's sense for yer!"