Then he read, aloud, so all might hear: 

“This will be handed to you by a jockey I have just engaged.  He comes from the east and is highly recommended.  I know his endorser.  Regretting that the promise of a Kentuckian prevents me from being with you, I am yours regretfully, on the outside, SANDUSKY DOOLITTLE.”

“It’s all right!” Frank shouted, gleefully, and then, to the strange jockey:  “Quick, on the mare and off to the post!”

Without a word, without a second’s pause, Madge, for the unknown jockey was, of course, the little mountain girl, jumped upon Queen Bess and hastily rode off, to be greeted, with a mighty outburst of cheering and applause as the favorite appeared before the waiting crowds in unmistakably fine condition and mounted by a rider whose every movement showed a perfect knowledge of the work and complete sympathy with the beautiful animal he rode.

* * * * *

Doomed by his promise on the honor of a gentleman to Miss Alathea, to witnessing the race from the outside, if he witnessed it at all, Colonel Sandusky Doolittle, fully aware of the unusual interest of the moments, some account of which has just been made, was sunk in melancholy after he had sent Madge through the magic portals, with explicit instructions as to exactly what to do when once she was safe inside.  He was breathing hard from the mere exertion of preventing his unruly feet from running to the gate, of keeping his unruly hand from diving deep into his pocket for the entrance fee.  These preventions he accomplished, though, without once really weakening, and was safe at a good distance from the tempting gate when the crowd within began to shout as the horses were brought out.

“There, they’re bringing out the horses!” he exclaimed, unhappily.  He set his jaws as might one who, with a great effort, abstains from food when famishing.  “I didn’t go in!” he muttered.  “I’ve kept my word, though it has nearly finished me!”

Anxiously, if hurriedly, he searched along the fence for the knot-hole Neb had told him of.  Twice, in his great eagerness, he passed it by, but, on the third inspection he discovered it, and placed his eye to it.  In a moment he backed away, dejectedly.  “I can’t see worth a cent!” he bitterly complained.  “It’s not hole enough for me!” Lost, in his disappointment, even to shame for the wretched pun, he straightened up, surveying his immediate surroundings.

Close by was the tree which Neb had also spoken of.  He examined it with an appraising eye, then looked about to see what spectators were near.  No one was in sight save a pair of piccaninnies, down the fence a hundred yards or so, with eyes glued to other knot-holes or to cracks.

“To the deuce with dignity!” he cried.  “I’ll just inspect that tree.”

He was doing this with care, when, breathless and eager, a lady hurried toward him.  As the tree intervened between them he did not see her coming, nor did she note his presence.  It would have been quite plain to anyone who had observed her that she was engaged upon a quest much like that which he had pursued, for she carefully inspected each plank in the high fence, as, slowly and cautiously lest she should pass unheeded that which she was seeking eagerly, she made her way in his direction.