Breathless half-strangled objurgations, the clatter of trace and swivel, and the thud of hoofs, rose muffled through the roar of the fire, for, while swaying, plunging, panting, they fought with fist and hoof, it was rolling on, and now the heat was almost insupportable.

The victory, however, was to the men, and when the great machine went on again, Maud Barrington, who had watched the struggle with the wife of one of her neighbors, stood wide-eyed, half-afraid and yet thrilled in every fiber.
"It was splendid," she said.

"They can't be beaten." Her companion seemed to shiver a little.

"Yes," she said, "perhaps it was, but I wish it was over.

It would appeal to you differently, my dear, if you had a husband at one of those horses' heads." For a moment Maud Barrington wondered whether it would, and then, when a red flame flickered out towards the team, felt a little chill of dread.