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Updated: May 31, 2025
She was strongly inclined to run, for she could easily beat the heavy Valders-Roan at a race, and her fleet legs might yet save her. I cannot say whether it was a generous wrath at the killing of her humble champion or a mere blind fury which overcame this inclination. But she knew now neither pain nor fear.
"Look at that horse," cried young and old, with eyes as big as saucers, pointing with their fingers at Lady Clare. "Handsome carcass that mare has," remarked a stoutish man, who knew what he was talking about; "and head and legs to match." "She beats your Valders-Roan all hollow, John Garvestad," said a young tease who stood next to him in the crowd.
"What do you hold your mare at to-day?" "I thought we had settled that matter once for all," the boy replied, quietly. "I have no more intention of selling Lady Clare now than I ever had." "Then will ye trade her off for Valders-Roan?" ejaculated Garvestad, eagerly. "No, I won't trade her for Valders-Roan or any other horse in creation."
"She is not mine to sell," the captain replied. "Lady Clare belongs to my son." "Well, what will you take for her, then?" Garvestad repeated, swaggeringly, turning to Erik. "Not all the gold in the world could buy her," retorted Erik, warmly. Valders-Roan, unable to resist the charms of Lady Clare, had in the meanwhile been making some cautious overtures toward an acquaintance.
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