"Grey, Zane - Betty Zane" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grey Zane)

followed the cracking of whips, the furious pounding of heavy hoofs, the
commands of the contestants, and the yells of the onlookers. Away they went at
a mad pace down the road. The course extended a mile straight away down the
creek bottom. The first hundred yards the horses were bunched. At the ditch
beyond the creek bridge a beautiful, clean limbed animal darted from among the
furiously galloping horses and sailed over the deep furrow like a bird. All
recognized the rider as Alfred Clarke on his black thoroughbred. Close behind
was George Martin mounted on a large roan of powerful frame and long stride.
Through the willows they dashed, over logs and brush heaps, up the little
ridges of rising ground, and down the shallow gullies, unheeding the stinging
branches and the splashing water. Half the distance covered and Alfred turned,
to find the roan close behind. On a level road he would have laughed at the
attempt of that horse to keep up with his racer, but he was beginning to fear
that the strong limbed stallion deserved his reputation. Directly before them
rose a pile of logs and matted brush, placed there by the daredevil settlers
who had mapped out the route. It was too high for any horse to be put at. With
pale cheek and clinched teeth Alfred touched the spurs to Roger and then threw
himself forward. The gallant beast responded nobly. Up, up, up he rose,
clearing all but the topmost branches. Alfred turned again and saw the giant
roan make the leap without touching a twig. The next instant Roger went splash
into a swamp. He sank to his knees in the soft black soil. He could move but
one foot at a time, and Alfred saw at a glance he had won the race. The great
weight of the roan handicapped him here. When Alfred reached the other side of
the bog, where the bottle was swinging from a branch of a tree, his rival's
horse was floundering hopelessly in the middle of the treacherous mire. The
remaining three horsemen, who had come up by this time, seeing that it would
be useless to attempt further efforts, had drawn up on the bank. With friendly
shouts to Clarke, they acknowledged themselves beaten. There were no judges
required for this race, because the man who reached the bottle first won it.

The five men returned to the starting point, where the victor was greeted by
loud whoops. The groom got the first drink from the bottle, then came the
attendants, and others in order, after which the bottle was put away to be
kept as a memento of the occasion.

The party now repaired to the village and marched to the home of the bride.
The hour for the observance of the marriage rites was just before the midday
meal. When the groom reached the bride's home he found her in readiness. Sweet
and pretty Alice looked in her gray linsey gown, perfectly plain and simple
though it was, without an ornament or a ribbon. Proud indeed looked her lover
as he took her hand and led her up to the waiting minister. When the
whisperings had ceased the minister asked who gave this woman to be married.
Alice's father answered.

"Will you take this woman to be your wedded wife, to love, cherish and protect
her all the days of her life?" asked the minister.

"I will," answered a deep bass voice.

"Will you take this man to be your wedded husband, to love, honor and obey him