It was another instance of the old story of the hare and the tortoise.

While Grace struggled with her rooster, a fat duck waddled past her. The duck's mistress had enticed her nearly the whole length of the journey by throwing grains of corn a yard or so ahead of her steed. Of course, any well disposed duck would move forward for refreshments.

Dorothy Morton arrived safely at the first goal with her old gray goose.

But now her troubles really began. Her steed had no disposition to return to the crowd of noisy spectators that it had so cheerfully left behind.

Dorothy tugged at one of her heavy white reins. The goose continued placidly on its way across the broad field. A goose is not a pleasant bird in attack, and Dorothy did not like to resort to forcible methods.

a.s.sistance came from an unexpected quarter. Grace's rooster had at last been persuaded to rush violently between the required posts. In one of its excited turns, it brushed close behind the old goose. Here was a chance for revenge! The rooster gave a flying peck at the goose's tail feathers and flew on.

With a loud squawk the goose turned completely around. It flew up in the air, then down to the ground again, and made a rush for its opponent. But the rooster was unworthy game. It tacked too often to the right and left.

The old gray goose gave up its pursuit in disgust. Since it was headed toward the starting-place it took up its walk again, Dorothy Morton meekly following it.

Only three of the girls remained in the race. Ruth had given up in despair. Her turkey had wandered off to parts unknown. Another girl sat on an upturned stump feeding crumbs to a motherly hen that had found walking disagreeable and had taken to scratching around the roots of a tree.

Dorothy pa.s.sed her rival with the duck midway on her journey back home.

The duck took no further interest in corn. It had eaten all that a well-bred fowl could desire. Now it squatted in the gra.s.s to enjoy a well-earned repose.

Shrieks of laughter rose when Dorothy Morton at last drove her gray goose back to the judge's stand.

"Hurrah for the old gray goose!" shouted the spectators in merry applause.

Franz h.e.l.ler rushed down from the platform, carrying two wreaths in his hands. One was made of smilax and pink roses; the other a small wreath of evergreens with a silver bell fastened to it. Franz dropped the rose garland over Dorothy Morton's head. The small wreath with the bell he placed on the neck of the old gray goose.

Exhausted, Dorothy dropped into the nearest seat. The old gray goose wandered off toward home, led by a proud farmer's boy.

Scarcely had the laughter from the first event ceased, when the Thread and Needle Race was called for.

Ralph Ewing was an easy winner, thanks to Mollie's skill as a seamstress.

Ralph declared the b.u.t.ton she sewed on him should ornament his coat for evermore.

But the Egg and Spoon Race was a closely contested event.

The race appeared to be a tie between Amba.s.sador Morton and Mr. Winthrop Latham.

Near-sighted Franz h.e.l.ler made a brave start, but his eyes betrayed him.

Carefully carrying his egg in a spoon which he bore at arm's length, Franz forgot to look down at his feet. He stumped his toe against a small stone. Crash, the egg rolled from his spoon! A yellow stream marked the place where it fell.

Mr. Latham and the Amba.s.sador were painstaking men. They ran along, side by side, at a gentle pace. The man who arrived first at the appointed goal with an unbroken egg was, of course, the victor.

Unfortunately for Mr. Latham, an old habit overcame him. In the midst of the contest he paused to adjust his gla.s.ses. The movement of his arm was fatal. His spoon tipped and his egg rolled gently to the earth.

Still the Amba.s.sador continued unmoved on his stately journey. With a smile he solemnly handed an unbroken white egg to Reginald Latham.

"Here, cook this for your breakfast!" he advised Reginald, who was acting as judge of this famous event.

Cutting a lemon with a saber, and the Dummy Race, ended the morning's sports. The afternoon was to be devoted to riding.

CHAPTER XX

BARBARA AND BEAUTY

"Barbara, you are eating very little luncheon," Ralph Ewing whispered in Bab's ear.

Amba.s.sador and Mrs. Morton were entertaining a large number of friends in the dining-room of the clubhouse.

Maud Warren smiled patronizingly across the table at Barbara.

"Are you nervous about our riding this afternoon?" Maud asked. "Mr.

h.e.l.ler, do please pa.s.s Miss Thurston those sandwiches. She must want something to keep up her courage."

Kind-hearted Franz h.e.l.ler hurriedly presented Bab with all the good things he could reach.

"Thank you, Mr. h.e.l.ler," said Barbara, gratefully. Her cheeks were crimson; her brown eyes flashed, but she made no reply. Mollie, who knew Bab's quick temper, wondered how her sister controlled herself.

A horn blew to announce that the luncheon hour was ended.

"Run along, child," Miss Stuart called nervously to Bab. "Now, do, pray be careful! I shall certainly be glad when this riding contest is over."

While the guests of the Society Circus were at luncheon the field had been arranged for the hurdle-jumping.

Inside the green meadow four short length fences had been set up, a quarter of a mile apart. The girls were to ride around the field on their horses and jump the four hurdles.

Besides Bab and Maud Warren, four other Lenox girls had entered for this race. The riders were all skilled horsewomen.

Amba.s.sador Morton waved his hand to Bab as she cantered by him on his little horse, Beauty. Her friends called out their good wishes. Bab smiled and nodded. She never looked so well or so happy as when she was on the back of a horse.

Amba.s.sador Morton cautioned the girls before they started for their ride.

"Remember, this is just a friendly contest," he urged. "We merely want to see you young people ride. No one may allow her horse to cross too close in front of another horse. Two of you must not try to jump the hurdle at the same time."

The six girls cantered bravely down the field.

Maud Warren and Bab rode side by side. Barbara was the youngest and smallest of the girls, but she rode her little horse as though she were a part of it.

"Don't sit too closely in your saddle," Maud Warren leaned over and spoke patronizingly to Barbara.

"Thank you!" Bab replied.

The girls were now riding swiftly across the meadow.

Ralph, Hugh, Ruth, Mollie and Grace left their places and hurried down to the fence that inclosed the riding ring.

At the first fence two of the horses refused to jump. The other four sprang easily over the bars.

By the rules of the contest, the girls were not allowed to urge their horses, so the two riders went quietly back.

At the second hurdle, another horse faltered. This left the riding contest to Bab, Maud Warren, and a Lenox girl, Bertha Brokaw.