CHAPTER IV.
Broken bones and successful love.
They had now lost all hold over Moordown; and the three men were so stunned it was a short time before either spoke. Sir Hew was the first to open his mouth.
"Where on earth did he get the money?"
"Who could have found such a large amount in a night? It must have been the duchess. They do say she is sweet on him," muttered Platt.
"Nonsense! I don't believe a word of it; but where the cash came from is a mystery," said Sir Hew.
"Will this talk help me to get back the money I have overlaid against Highdrift?" asked Platt's friend. "A pretty book I have got to square."
"The race is not yet decided," replied Sir Hew, looking much perplexed, "and if I cannot win somebody else will have a difficulty. One moment, Platt—your friend won't mind"—taking Platt to the window, and whispering: "You know Airton; he is a certain starter, but has not the ghost of a chance. He is not particular what he does, and there is an old feud about a girl between him and Moordown. You must manage to give him a hundred to get in the way of Highdrift. That is the best I can suggest. Two of us ought to be able to stop the brute."
Most great races are run at three o'clock, and the Silver Gauntlet at Wincastle was no exception. At that hour the excellent field of thirteen placed themselves in the hands of the starter, who despatched them on their eventful journey at the second attempt.
As they streamed past the Grand Stand, crowded with all the beauty and aristocracy of the county, it was seen that Sir Hew Mainfly was leading, but that he could scarcely control the fractions Springtrap, and that Highdrift, with Moordown for his pilot, held a good position in the centre of the second lot close to Mr. Airton on his weedy thoroughbred Jasmine.
We who are behind the scenes know that Airton's proximity to Moordown bodes no good to the latter.
The only important alteration in the betting at the fall of the flag was the return of Highdrift to his old position of first favourite.
As he swung himself into the saddle, Moordown told Wardlock that he would make a waiting race of it, and let Highdrift do his best in the last two fields. He seemed to be quietly confident of the result, and he took all the chaff his friends gave him about the withered rose pinned to his jacket in good part.
There had been a heavy fall of rain during the night, and before half the three miles was covered the holding ground began to find out the weak points of many of the half-trained horses.
Springtrap was going in more sober fashion, but he was not by any means done with; on the contrary, he looked as formidable as anything, and now that he submitted to Sir Hew's guidance he possessed an undeniable chance. Sir Hew had wisely pulled him back to the second division, among which Highdrift and Jasmine were still running side by side.
So far, and it is nearly two miles, there have been no casualties, but they are fast approaching the big jump. A natural brook has been artificially guarded, and, judging from the number of people at the spot, some scrambling is expected. These waiters on accidents were not disappointed. Two or three of the first flight were too exhausted to clear the obstacle, and landed in the water, where they kicked and splashed, to the intense delight of the spectators.
As he neared the brook, Sir Hew Mainfly put on a spurt and left the company, and pulling his horse together landed him safely on the other side.
Watchers on the top of the Grand Stand offered to bet even money that they named the winner. They meant Springtrap, and it did look like odds on that horse, when Highdrift met with a check at the brook.
On nearing the water, Jasmine swerved right in front of Highdrift, and the result was a serious scrimmage, in which horses and men were on the ground together. Airton may have been earning his hundred or not, but he had bitter occasion to remember the accident; a kick he received when on the ground injured his spine, and he was doomed to be a cripple for life.
Moordown, who had stuck to his reins, was on his feet and into the saddle in a minute, and it required no persuasion to get Highdrift across to the right side. Valuable moments had, however, been lost, and there was now a considerable gap between him and Springtrap. He set his horse going in earnest, and soon passed the stragglers, and when he got into the second field from home he had everything beaten except Springtrap, on whom he did not appear to gain a yard.
The success of Sir Hew seemed almost certain. There was only a trifling post and rails obstruction between him and the straight run in, and he was a comfortable distance ahead of his most dangerous enemy. The owner of Highdrift began to lose hope, and bewail his confounded luck. If Airton had not got in his way, he thought, things might have been different.
After all that had occurred in connection with the race, it galled him to the quick to think he was likely to be beaten, and, of all men, by Sir Hew, and in sight of the duchess.
But there are many slips between the cup and the lip, and ships have been known to founder in summer seas. Whether it was carelessness, or the horse got frightened at the yelling of the mob, or was tired, cannot be said now, but, in taking the most insignificant obstacle of the whole course, Springtrap for the first time made a mistake, and came down heavily, pitching Sir Hew on his head.
The baronet never spoke more. When picked up it was discovered that his neck was broken.
Moordown had now the race in hand, and he passed the Grand Stand six lengths in front of Conqueror, next to whom came Idol and Eye of Night.
Moordown was a general favourite, and the many congratulations he received were hearty and sincere, but he would have bartered them all, and Highdrift also, for the little smile of recognition bestowed on him by the duchess. The accidents—there was a third, which was not, however, of a serious nature—damped the gaiety of the meeting, and Billy Platt invented a special curse for the new race, which he repeats to this day.
On the following forenoon an interview took place at the Castle between the duchess and Mr. Moordown.
"I have brought you the Gauntlet, duchess," he said, kneeling; "it is really more yours than mine. Inside you will find your money, which brought such good lack. Now tell me how I can repay your great and unmerited kindness?"
"You want to be put to the test, do you?"
"Nothing could please me better. I only hope it will be something difficult."
"Tremendous!" she answered, laughing and blushing; and raising him from his kneeling position; "nothing short of a life-test."