"There goes the 'King'!" exclaimed Lady Caine, almost rising from her
seat in her excitement. "Oh, I do hope he will win don't you, Mr.
Vermont?"
Jasper smiled.
"I do, indeed," he said, while his little steely eyes rested upon the
shrivelled figure of Peacock, the jockey, with a keen, cold scrutiny.
Meanwhile the horses pounded away over the course, still in the same
order. "Miracour" leading, "Bluebell" falling behind, and the "King"
creeping up easily to the second place.
The first fence placed nearly half the horses out of the running; the
next threw out two more, though the "King" cleared it in his stride, so
close in the wake of his rival that a speck of white foam flecked the
haunches of the leader.
Adrien nodded approvingly.
"That fellow knows how to ride," he said. "If he keeps the 'King' like
that, the race is ours."
"Oh yes," agreed Vermont, smiling grimly; "he understands him,
evidently. It is to be hoped he keeps him cool till the spurt comes."
"Which will be after the last jump," put in Lord Standon, as he shifted
his field-glasses.
"Exactly," purred Jasper.
Hedge after hedge was cleared, and still "Miracour" was leading; but it
was evident that the high blood of the "King" was burning to get away,
and that his jockey was playing a waiting game.
It was at the stream that the strain began to tell. "Bluebell," the
Irish mare, had struggled on gamely; but at the last she refused to
leap, she stopped short, and her jockey was pitched forward into the
water.
A laugh arose even in the midst of the excitement; but it was
speedily drowned in the cries of "The 'King' wins. No! No!
'Miracour!'--'Vicket'--beats. No! No! the 'King'--the 'King's' got
away!"
They were right, for Peacock had thought it wisest to put the spurt on
already, and the "King," with every fibre stretched to its utmost, had
darted ahead. "Miracour" caught up again, and side by side they raced
over the level flat, cheered and shouted at by the frantic crowd.
A roar like that of the sea broke forth as the two animals neared the
last obstacle, a great hedge filled with thorn, and like a miniature
mountain. Neck and neck they seemed to be, when suddenly the "King"
darted forward, and, amid terrific shouts of astonishment, took the leap
too short, fell sideways, and pitched his jockey into the short scrub, a
dozen feet away.