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Page 29 text:
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the pony's bridle under his arm and rode down the steep side of the mountain. It had hurt Little Chief Tom Tom to sell his pony, but it hurt him worse to hear the caller announce, “Tepee, Indian pony, has been entered in the race.” As he led his horse out on the track he called himself a fool for having sold the pony as a good runner. Tepee took the lead at the very beginning and toward the end of the race was a dozen yards ahead of her nearest opponent. A cheer rang out as the little pony rounded the last curve and stretched out down the long course for home. She could hear behind her the thundering hoofs of the big Arabian. Her keen ears heard the pleading voice of her own rider urging her to make a last desperate sprint. With beautiful ardor she sought in vain to respond. Tepee was tired, tired, tired. Her breath came with alarming irregularity and her worn lungs expanded with stabs of pain. Tepee was slowly failing under the terrific pace, and to make it worse she could sec the shadow of the great Arabian creeping upon her. Little Chief Tom Tom rose higher in his stirrups and gave his steed the cue tor the final burst of speed. The Indian was leaning over his horse's neck, his teeth gleaming white against his copper skin and a smile of triumph on his lips. 'Phe little stand of the judges seemed to be flying toward him. Then in its place lie could see the prize money—two thousand dollars. He knew that waiting for him was a tired looking man with a dust-covered horse, lie had seen him just as the race began walking up and down and jingling a metallic something from his hand. But Little Chief Tom Tom did not care. He would flaunt the prize money in the sheriff’s face and dare the law to do its worst. Then freedom, happiness perhaps, at least not the hangman’s gallows. A cheer went up from the followers of Number Nine as the Indian slowly forged ahead. Little Chief Tom Tom turned in his stirrups to view again his beloved pony in action and his smile faded on his lips. He saw the tired, patient eyes of his pony, he heard the pitiful gasps for breath. His pony, his own unbeaten steed, whose pride was as his own. was going down with gallant courage in the first defeat of her life. The big Arabian appeared to falter, just for a moment, but long enough. Tepee went by like a whirlwind and Little Chief Tom Tom rode up to the man with the big hat and the dust covered pony and smilingly extended his hands. Wit, 1.1 AM El.l IMTT. '21. Pane Twenty-seven
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