"I wonder who's with him ?" "We'll mighty soon see," said Milton, as he wound the lines around his hands and braced his feet, giving a low whistle, which seemed to run through the colt's blood like fire.

His stride did not increase in rate, but its reach grew majestic as he seemed to lengthen and lower.

His broad feet flung great disks of hard-packed snow over the dasher, and under the clash of his bells the noise of the other team grew plainer.
"Get out of the way," sang Milton, as he approached the other team.
There was challenge and exultation in his tone.
"Hello! In a hurry ?" shouted those in front, without increasing their own pace.
"Ya-as, something of a hurry," drawled Milton in a disguised voice.
"Wa-al?
Turn out an' go by if you are." "No, thankee, I'll just let m' nag nibble the hay out o' your box an' take it easy." "Sure o' that ?" "You bet high I am." Milton nudged Bettie, who was laughing with delight.

"It's Bill an' his bays.

He thinks there isn't a team in the country can keep up with him.