"Keeps right on the back of his sheep," said the parson, watching intently. "Strange thing they don't break!" But they didn't. There was no waiting, no coaxing; it was drive and devilry all through. He brought his sheep along at a terrific rate, never missing a turn, never faltering, never running out. And the crowd applauded, for the crowd loves a dashing display. While little M'Adam, hopping agilely about, his face ablaze with excitement, handled dog and sheep with a masterly precision that compelled the admiration even of his enemies.
"M'Adam wins!" roared a bookmaker. "Twelve to one agin the field!"
"He wins, dang him!" said David, low.
"Wull wins!" said the parson, shutting his lips.
"And deserves too!" said James Moore.
"Wull wins!" softly cried the crowd.
"We don't!" said Sam'l gloomily.
And in the end Red Wull did Win; and there were none save Tammas, the bigot, and Long Kirby, who had lost a good deal of his wife's money and a little of his own, to challenge the justice of the verdict.