Carew, who was quite in his element, hit every head he saw,
and knocked his knuckles to pieces on Black Andy Kelly's teeth.
The fight he put up, and the terrific force of his hitting, are
traditions among the mountain men to this day. Charlie Gordon was
simply mad with the lust of fighting, and was locked in a death-grip
with Red Mick; they swayed and struggled on the ground, while the
crowd punched at them indiscriminately. In the middle of all this
business, the two ladies and Alick, the eldest of the children,
had started Gentle Annie for home, straight down the centre of the
course. The big mare, hearing the yelling, and recognising that she
was once more on a race-track, suddenly caught hold of the bit, and
came sweeping up the straight full-stretch, her great legs flying
to and fro like pistons. Alick, who was sitting bodkin between the
ladies, simply remarked, "Let her head go!" as she went thundering
into the crowd, hurling Doyles and Donohoes into the air, trampling
Kellys under foot--and so out the other side, and away at a 2.30
gait for at least half a mile before the terrified girls could pull
her up, and come back to see what damage had been done.
That ended the fight. The course was covered with wounded and
disabled men. Some had been struck by the mare's hoofs; others had
been run over by the wheels; and a great demand for whisky set in,
under cover of which Gordon and Carew retired to the four-in-hand.
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