BEAVER POND was as oval as an egg, and the margin of track around it was covered with fine turf. When the owners of the entries and their followers arrived at the track, they found it completely hemmed in by a great throng. A few seats were arranged, secure from danger, for the ladies. And at the starting line, which was also the finish, a small stage had been erected for the judges and the dandies from New York, and other prominent gentry. These included the famous Lightning Rod, Jr., grandson of Benjamin Franklin; and Samuel Adams, publisher of a journal in Boston; as well as a legislator, a councilor, and several other dignitaries.
After a whispered conference among the judges, Schoolmaster Morgan was also invited to sit on the stage.
Never had the Beaver Pond track known such excitement! The ladies were betting their gloves and copper half-cents, while the men wagered quarters and dollars, five to one against Little Bub.
Stealthily now Joel edged around behind the judges’ stand. It wouldn’t do to let the schoolmaster see him. His heart beating light and quick in his throat, he hurried to the oxcart, caught up the satchel, tucked it under one arm, and came running back to the starting line.
On either side of the stand there was a solid press of people. Joel had to get down on his knees and crawl between legs to reach the track. Two horses were approaching the starting post. At sight of them the men began to laugh and murmur. From his crouched position Joel looked out between a pair of dusty boots and saw why. It was a strange match indeed! One tall, satiny mare bearing a jockey in purple silks against a rough-coated work horse with a burly farmer on his back.
Joel’s eyes flashed in indignation. Where was the other blooded horse? Did Little Bub have to race them one at a time? Did he have to run two races? “’Tain’t fair!” he shouted, but his voice was lost in the din.
Now the starter came forward with a drum, and Joel smiled in spite of himself. Bub was not afraid of drums! For a full moment the starter, drumsticks upraised, looked to the judge, waiting. At last the judge nodded for the tap. And at that self-same instant, Joel tore open his satchel, jerked out a little hound-dog, and did something he had never done before. He pinched the dog’s tail as hard as he could and tossed him onto the course just as the tap of the drum sounded.