But Jeff only laughed tolerantly and made no reply.
Dave Truman started them with a pistol shot, and the two horses darted away, Smoky half a jump in the lead.

His limp was forgotten, and for half the distance he ran neck and neck with Skeeter.

Then he dropped to Skeeter's middle, to his flank--then ran with his black nose even with Skeeter's rump.

Even so it was a closer race than the crowd had expected, and all the cowboys began to yell themselves purple.
But when they were yet a few leaps from the wire clothes-line stretched high, from post to post, Bud leaned forward until he lay flat alongside Smoky's neck, and gave a real Indian war-whoop.

Smoky lifted and lengthened his stride, came up again to Skeeter's middle, to his shoulder, to his ears--and with the next leap thrust his nose past Skeeter's as they finished.
Well, then there was the usual noise, everyone trying to shout louder than his fellows.