Part 22 (1/2)
”Let out a wrap, girl, and we'll breeze them up the stretch; come on.
Carter, get to the front with the mare.” A quarter of a mile from the finish the horses raced into a swinging stride. Diablo was simply mad with a desire to gallop; but in the saddle was his master; no horse ever did as he wished with John Porter. Battling against the sharps his honesty might handicap him out of the strife, but in the saddle the elation of movement crept into his sinews, and he was superb, a king.
As a jockey, he would have been unsurpa.s.sed. It filled his heart with delight to play with the fierce, imperious animal he rode.
”Steady, my boy--no you don't!” This as Diablo stuck his neck straight out like an arrow and sought to hold the bit tight against the bridle teeth, that he might race at his own sweet will. Back came the right hand, then the left, three vicious saws, and the bit was loose and Diablo's head drawn down again close to the martingale. Lucretia and Lauzanne were pulling to the front.
”Go on!” called Porter to Ned Carter; ”I want to see the little mare in her stride. Take them out at three-quarter gallop down the back stretch.
I'll be treading your heels off.”
By this they were opposite the old stand, where Shandy was hiding. The boy, surmising that a gallop was on, and anxious to see them as they rounded the turn going down the back, had knocked a board loose to widen the crack. As the horses came abreast, Shandy, leaning forward in his eagerness, dislodged it at the top, and it fell with a clatter, carrying him half through the opening. The wind was blowing fair across the little stand, so the scent of the boy came to Diablo's nostrils at the same instant the startling noise reached his nervous ears. In a swerve he almost stopped, every muscle of his big body trembling in affright.
Porter was nearly thrown from his seat by this crouching side step; the horse seemed to shrink from under him. Just for an instant, but the reins had flapped loose against the wet neck and Diablo felt freedom.
With a snort he plunged forward like a wounded buck, and raced madly after Lucretia, who had bolted when the crash came.
Porter had lost a stirrup in the sudden twist, and the reins had slipped through his fingers as he grabbed the mane on Diablo's wither to pull his weight back into the saddle.
Now the black neck was straight and taut, flatcapped by the slim ears that lay close to the throatlatch. The thunder of his pounding hoofs reached to the ears of Lucretia and Lauzanne in front, and urged them onward. Carter had sat down in the saddle, and taken a steadying pull at the brown mare. Even Lauzanne seemed lifted out of his usual lethargy, and, widemouthed, was pulling Allis out of the saddle.
”Curse the brute!” gasped Porter, burying his knees in the saddle flaps, and searching for the dangling stirrup with the toe of his right foot.
Once he almost had it, but missed; the iron, swinging viciously, caught Diablo in the flank--it made little difference, his terror was complete.
All the time Porter was kneading the dangling reins back through forefinger and thumb, shortening his hold for a strong pull at the galloping brute's head.
”Who-o-o-a-h, who-o-o-ah, stead-y!” and, bracing himself against the pummel he swung the weight of his shoulders on the reins. As well might he have pulled at the rock of Gibraltar. Diablo's head was up, his teeth set hard and the man's strength was as nothing against the full-muscled neck of the big horse. Diablo was cutting down the lead the other two held over him, galloping like a demon. Porter felt that he must loosen the bit and throw that set head down to get command of the horse. One fierce yank to the right and the black head swayed a trifle; another to the left and--G.o.d in heaven! the rein snapped, and its loose end came back, slas.h.i.+ng the rider across the face. He reeled with the recoil, nearly bringing Diablo to his knees with the sudden swing of weight on the right rein. Porter's brain jerked foolishly for an instant; then he was the trained horseman again, and had let the remaining leather slip through his fingers a trifle.
”Go on!” he shouted to those in front; ”go on--give me a lead! Hang to the course!”
He realized now that the crazed brute under him must run himself out.
All he could do was to sit tight and wait till Diablo had raced himself to a standstill. To use the one rein meant a crash into the rail, and surely death. Before, he had thought only of the horse's welfare; now it was a matter of his own life. All that remained to him was to keep a cool head, a steady nerve, and wait.
Freed of restraint, not battled with, the Black's stride lengthened, his nostrils spread wider, the hoofs pounded quicker and quicker until the earth echoed with their palpitating beat. The other horses heard the turmoil, and they, too, became more afraid, and took up the mad rush.
Diablo's reaching nose was at Lauzanne's hip when Allis took one swift backward glance. She saw the dangling rein, the set look in her father's face, the devil eyes of the horse, and for one breath-gasp her heart fluttered in its beat. As quickly she put the fear from her, and swinging Lauzanne a shade wide, left Diablo more room next the rail.
”On, Lauzanne!” she called through drawn lips; and hitched encouragingly in the saddle.
Lucretia was still in front, her speed mocking at the swift rush of Lauzanne and Diablo. But how the Black galloped! Every post saw him creeping up on the Chestnut, and Allis riding and nursing him to keep the runaway hemmed in at the turns, so that he could not crash through the outer rail. No one spoke again. Each knew that nothing was left to do but keep Diablo to the course, and ride, ride.
Just in front of Lauzanne, with swinging stride raced the brown mare, waiting till the Chestnut should drop back beaten, to take up the running with Diablo. That was Carter's good judgment; and he rode as though it were the Derby, and he was nursing his mount for the last call at the finish.
At the three quarters Lauzanne and Diablo were neck and neck; at the half, the Black was lapped on Lucretia; another furlong and she was laboring to keep her place, nose and nose with him.
”I'm done,” panted Carter, feeling the mare swerve and falter; ”I'm done--G.o.d help us!”
Still there was no check in the Black's gallop; he was like a devil that could go on forever and ever.
They had turned into the straight with Lucretia a neck to the bad, when Carter heard the girl's voice faintly calling, ”Pull out, Ned!” The boy thought it fancy. Lauzanne the Despised couldn't be there at their heels. He had thought him beaten off long ago. But again the voice came, a little stronger, ”Pull out, Ned!”
This time there was no mistake. It might be a miracle, but it was his duty to obey. As he galloped, Carter edged Lucretia to the right.
Without looking back he could feel Lauzanne creeping up between him and Diablo. Soon the Chestnut's head showed past his elbow, and they were both lapped on the Black. Halfway up the stretch Allis was riding stirrup to stirrup with her father. Porter's weight was telling on Diablo.