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Updated: June 7, 2025
"But it does mean war, doesn't it?" asked Lieutenant Holton. "That chap, Huerta, will be stiff-necked about yielding a gun salute after it has been refused, and Mexican pride will back him up in it. The Mexicans hate us as only jealous people can hate. The Mexicans won't give in. On the other hand, our country has always been very stiff over any insult to the Flag.
Holton, leader of the small group of English Liberals in Quebec, was also in very poor health.
Holton smiled unpleasantly, intimating that Frank's lack of betting on his horse was proof positive that the worst tales told were true. "That settles it. The bookies are right. Th' mare's no chance with a new jockey, an' you know it." "If I were betting," said Frank angrily, "I'd back her with every dollar that I have on earth." Holton smiled at him unpleasantly.
The jockey eluded them, however and, with face averted, hurried with the splendid mare back to the paddock, and there disappeared, disregarding the crowd's wild shouts of acclamation. Holton stood near Frank, white-faced and angry. Old Neb, as he ran beside Queen Bess, looked back at him and grinned.
Madge rushed to the window, calling loudly: "Colonel! Mr. Frank!" But Holton and Joe Lorey were, by that time, locked in a desperate grip and struggling with the energy of men battling for their lives. Twisting and straining, each striving with the last ounce of energy within him to get the better of the other, they plunged across the room and out into the hall.
Holton, full of scheming, was returning up the trail after having said good-bye to Barbara, Miss Alathea and the Colonel at the railway in the valley, climbing steadily and skillfully, without much thought of his surroundings. His feet had quickly fallen into the almost automatic climbing-stride of the born mountaineer, and his thoughts had gradually absorbed themselves in memories of the past.
He sidled to the stable door, and, careful to see that his bent body hid the operation from the coming visitor, turned the key in the big lock. The key he then slipped into his capacious trousers pocket. "Hello, Neb," said Holton, affably, as he came up. "Ebenin', suh." Neb added nothing to this greeting and went nonchalantly to a distant bench to sit down on it carelessly.
Holton, his colleague, had orated about differential duties, very dry and Yankee- like, as usual. McGee followed in one of his arousing speeches. When he sat down, the respected negro landlord of "Uncle Tom's Cabin" got up to move a vote of confidence. And, according to McGee's story, said: "Bredren, we all on us heah came to dis land on a venter. Mr. McGee he came heah on a venter.
He was beginning to be frightened. Could something Neb was trying to hide have happened to the mare? "Bekase bekase " Ned stammered, "well, to tell de trufe, suh, bekase I is afeared she ain't quite dressed." "Not dressed! The mare not dressed! Have you lost your senses? Open that door quick!" "Marse Frank, I cain't. I nachully jus' cain't." Holton was enjoying this.
He assured himself as he stepped out into the crowded street that he was safe, whether or not the crime was ever fastened on Joe Lorey. Layson, after Holton left, looked around upon the party with a worried eye. "I can't take this matter up, yet," he declared. "Until the race is over I can think of nothing else. Colonel, I'll look after Ike, and then we'll be off to the track."
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