Part 8 (2/2)

”Yes, he got 'em all,” mimicked the Blight.

”Yes, an' he just did make it,” chuckled the Hon. Sam. The Discarded had wheeled his horse aside from the course to watch his antagonist. He looked pale and tired--almost as tired as his foam-covered steed--but his teeth were set and his face was unmoved as the Knight of the c.u.mberland came on like a demon, sweeping off the last ring with a low, rasping oath of satisfaction.

”I never seed Dave ride that-a-way afore,” said Mollie.

”Me, neither,” chimed in Buck.

The n.o.bles and ladies were waving handkerchiefs, clapping hands, and shouting. The spectators of better degree were throwing up their hats and from every part of the mult.i.tude the same hoa.r.s.e shout of encouragement rose:

”Go it, Dave! Hooray for Dave!” while the boy on the telegraph-pole was seen to clutch wildly at the crossbar on which he sat--he had come near tumbling from his perch.

The two knights rode slowly back to the head of the lists, where the Discarded was seen to dismount and tighten his girth.

”He's tryin' to git time to rest,” said the Hon. Sam. ”Toot, son!”

”Shame!” said the little sister and the Blight both at once so severely that the Hon. Sam quickly raised his hand.

”Hold on,” he said, and with hand still uplifted he waited till Marston was mounted again. ”Now!”

The Discarded came on, using his spurs with every jump, the red of his horse's nostrils showing that far away, and he swept on, spearing off the rings with deadly accuracy and holding the three aloft, but having no need to pull in his panting steed, who stopped of his own accord.

Up went a roar, but the Hon. Sam, covertly glancing at his watch, still smiled. That watch he pulled out when the Knight of the c.u.mberland started and he smiled still when he heard the black horse's swift, rhythmic beat and he looked up only when that knight, shouting to his horse, moved his lance up and down before coming to the last ring and, with a dare-devil yell, swept it from the wire.

”Tied--tied!” was the shout; ”they've got to try it again! they've got to try it again!”

The Hon. Sam rose, with his watch in one hand and stilling the tumult with the other. Dead silence came at once.

”I fear me,” he said, ”that the good knight, the Discarded, has failed to make the course in the time required by the laws of the tournament.”

Bedlam broke loose again and the Hon. Sam waited, still gesturing for silence.

”Summon the time-keeper!” he said.

The time-keeper appeared from the middle of the field and nodded.

”Eight seconds!” ”The Knight of the c.u.mberland wins,” said the Hon. Sam.

The little sister, unconscious of her own sad face, nudged me to look at the Blight--there were tears in her eyes.

Before the grandstand the knights slowly drew up again. Marston's horse was so lame and tired that he dismounted and let a darky boy lead him under the shade of the trees. But he stood on foot among the other knights, his arms folded, worn out and vanquished, but taking his bitter medicine like a man. I thought the Blight's eyes looked pityingly upon him.

The Hon. Sam arose with a crown of laurel leaves in his hand:

”You have fairly and gallantly won, Sir Knight of the c.u.mberland, and it is now your right to claim and receive from the hands of the Queen of Love and Beauty the chaplet of honor which your skill has justly deserved. Advance, Sir Knight of the c.u.mberland, and dismount!”

The Knight of the c.u.mberland made no move nor sound.

”Get off yo' hoss, son,” said the Hon. Sam kindly, ”and get down on yo'

knees at the feet of them steps. This fair young Queen is a-goin' to put this chaplet on your s.h.i.+nin' brow. That horse'll stand.”

<script>