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Updated: May 27, 2025
The race was almost run, and it was high time, for the pony was all but fagged out. And then into the very streets of the mountain town went the little horse. Straight through the streets, bearing unconscious Jack. And those who saw wondered, though some may have guessed what had happened. Several raced after Sunger, who was now abating some of his speed.
"I don't know whether we'll get him or not," Jack mused, as he urged his pony on. "He's got a good start of us, and that horse of his can go some, or I miss my guess. Besides, he's a regular ox, and can keep going for hours at a time. "You're all right, Sunger, and there isn't a better pony living," Jack went on, "but it's like putting a little runabout auto up against a big racing car.
And a short distance ahead was a place on the trail where the suspect could escape by a side path. "Here goes!" murmured Jack. In his loudest voice he cried out: "Whoa, Sunger!" Something happened at once. The pony, which had been running his best in order not to let the horse behind pass him, pulled up so short that the man was flung with great force from the saddle, and over Sunger's head.
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