Part 33 (1/2)

Alan was keenly interested in the result. If Bandmaster beat Rainstorm he would be delightfully surprised. He smiled as he pictured Fred Skane crowing over the doubters and p.r.o.nouncing Bandmaster the best horse in the land.

Eve was anxious. She wanted Alan to win both matches; at the same time she was glad Mr. Hallam's horses showed such good form. She was quite willing to accept his excuse that they would have done better had they been thoroughly acclimatized. There was, however, little time to think over these things; all attention was concentrated on the race, which was now at the most exciting part, and the tumult at its height. The brown jacket with the blue sleeves held the lead as they came up the rise, but the black and orange hoops were close on to them, and Rainstorm's head was at Bandmaster's girth.

It was a punis.h.i.+ng finish, but neither horse gave way--a splendid display of dogged courage and endurance, it appealed to all that was best in thousands of people witnessing it.

Bradley roused himself for a final effort; few jockeys had his strength at the end of a severe course; he had s.n.a.t.c.hed races out of the fire by sheer power of endurance.

Tommy had beaten him yesterday; he was almost savagely determined not to be placed second to-day. Every nerve was strained, all his resources, and they were many, were called upon. He rode with his head as well as his legs, and judged every little thing in favor of his mount.

If Rainstorm had a bit of brilliant dash in him all would be well, but had he? From the way the horse had traveled Ben doubted but nevertheless determined to test him to the utmost. He felt the horse roll a trifle and held him firm. What caused this? He was certain Rainstorm was not beaten.

Then Bandmaster did the same thing, but it was more of a lurch and Colley gasped in surprise. Both jockeys were straining to the utmost but had not drawn their whips. Bradley was the first to raise his arm; Colley saw it and immediately followed suit. The whips came down simultaneously, the result was equal and the horses kept their positions. Again the whips fell and this time it was Bandmaster made the better response.

It was not a cruel race; these reminders were not vicious, so sensitive were the wonderfully bred horses that they answered to the least call.

Alan's horse gained half a length and there was a terrific cheer; the brown and blue was well in front, the black and orange hoops fell back.

A look of disappointment stole over Bernard Hallam's face. Rainstorm was his favorite; he would have given much to see him win. Two miles was his best distance. What a horse Bandmaster must be to beat him! A Hunt Cup winner giving Rainstorm the go-by over two miles--it was hardly credible; but there was the hard fact.

”Ah!”

Mr. Hallam exclaimed loudly.

”Hurrah!”

He shouted at the top of his voice.

”Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah!”

The cry came again in three loud, victorious cheers.

And what caused it? Why this sudden change from despondency to joyful hope of victory?

Rainstorm, after a prodigious effort on Bradley's part, drew level with Bandmaster, got his head in front, kept it there, and the judge's box was only a few yards away. A wonderful bit of riding, a great and gallant effort on the part of a good horse.

Tommy almost yelled as he drove Bandmaster along; to be defeated after all, no, he couldn't stand that. He never rode a better race and he had a good horse under him.

The last effort made by Rainstorm seemed likely to carry him first past the post, and Bernard Hallam was sure of winning. Bandmaster, however, would not be denied, the horse divined there was danger of losing; being full of courage he resented this and put forth his strength and speed to stave off defeat. How he did it Colley could not tell, but by some almost magical power he drew level with Rainstorm again and the desperate struggle continued.

The best thoroughbred never knows when he is beaten; so it was in the case of Bandmaster, who hung on to his opponent with bulldog tenacity.

Bernard Hallam hardly believed it possible that Alan's horse had again got on terms with Rainstorm. The angle was deceiving and his colors still appeared to be in front; so thought hundreds of others.

For a brief moment the eyes of the jockeys met; each saw grim determination there, then they looked ahead and the judge's box loomed up clear and close.

The finish was thrilling. As they flashed past the post the question was asked, ”What's won?” and n.o.body could tell.

”Close as The Duke's race,” said one.

”Gone one better; Rainstorm won,” said one of the Australians.