The Amateur Gentleman

And now it is that "The Terror" feels the restraining bit relax and

thereupon, with his fierce eyes ever upon the gray flanks of his

chosen foe, he tosses his great head, lengthens his stride, and with

a snort of defiance sweeps past Carnaby's gray, on and on, with

thundering hoofs and ears laid back, while Barnabas, eyeing the

hedge with frowning brows, gauges his distance,--a hundred yards!

fifty! twenty-five! steadies "The Terror" in his stride and sends

him at it--feels the spring and sway of the powerful loins,--a rush

of wind, and is over and away, with a foot to spare. But behind him

is the sound of a floundering splash,--another! and another! The air

is full of shouts and cries quickly lost in the rush of wind and the

drumming of galloping hoofs, and, in a while, turning his head, he

sees Slingsby's "Rascal" racing close behind.

"Bit of a rasper, that, b'gad!" bellows the Captain, radiant of face.

"Thinned 'em out a bit, ye know, Beverley. Six of 'em--down and out

of it b'gad! Carnaby's behind, too,--foot short at the water. Told

you it would be--a good race, and b'gad--so it is!"

Inch by inch the great, black horse and the raking sorrel creep up

nearer the leaders, and, closing in with the Viscount, Barnabas

wonders to see the ghastly pallor of his cheek and the grim set of

mouth and jaw, till, glancing at the sleeve of his whip-arm, he sees

there a dark stain, and wonders no more. And the race is but begun!

"Dick!" he cried.

"That you, Bev?"

"Your arm, Dick,--keep your hand up!"

"Arm, Bev--right as a trivet!"

And to prove his words, the Viscount flourished his whip in the air.

"Deuce take me! but Jerningham's setting a devilish hot pace," he

cried. "Means to weed out the unlikely ones right away. Gad! there's

riding for you!--Tressider's 'Pilot''s blown already--Marquis hasn't

turned a hair!"

And indeed the Marquis, it would seem, has at last ceased to worry

over his cravat, and has taken the lead, and now, stooped low in the

saddle, gallops a good twelve yards in front of Tressider.

"Come on Bev!" cries the Viscount and, uttering a loud "view hallo,"

flourishes his whip. "Moonraker" leaps forward, lengthens his stride,

and away he goes fast and furious, filling the air with flying clods,

on and on,--is level with Tressider,--is past, and galloping neck

and neck with the Marquis.

Onward sweeps the race, over fallow and plough, over hedge and ditch

and fence, until, afar off, Barnabas sees again the gleam of

water--a jump full thirty feet across. Now, as he rides with

"The Terror" well in hand, Barnahas is aware of a gray head with

flaring nostrils, of a neck outstretched, of a powerful shoulder, a

heaving flank, and Carnaby goes by. "The Terror" sees this too and,

snorting, bores savagely upon the bit--but in front of him gallops

Tressider's chestnut, and beside him races the Captain's sorrel. So,

foot by foot, and yard by yard, the gray wins by. Over a

hedge--across a ditch, they race together till, as they approach the

water-jump, behold! once more "The Terror" gallops half a length

behind Sir Mortimer's gray.