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As Mocassin's swift bobbing head swung round the corner on to the straight, she was alone save for her stable-companion, and his work was done. "He's seen her through," muttered Old Mat. "Now he can go home to bed."
As she came by, the Grand Stand began to sing with one voice: The maid of our mountains Mocassin's her name! The speed of the panther; The heart of the flame; The Belle of the Blue Ridge, The hope of the plain, The Queen of Kentucky, O, lift her again Chanted thus by tens of thousands of voices, singing round the course and up into the heavens, and culminating in the roaring slogan Mocassin!
So much, not even the arrogant English dared to dispute. But the rest was mystery. It was said that Jaggers himself did not know who was Mocassin's sire; and that Ikey and Chukkers, the only two who did, were so close that they never let on even to each other.
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