An Exciting Day
Every morning saw the boy thoroughly practising his mount, encouraged by
the owner, and at length the eventful day arrived.
A large and gay crowd had gathered about the course, and included every
white man and woman in the station, not to speak of the thousands of
Sikhs, Punjabis, Afghans, and Hindus who had assembled to witness the
Englishman's sport. The 193rd Native Infantry had turned out in
hundreds, keen on the victory of Markham Sahib's horse, and ready to
applaud until their voices gave out. There were officers in uniform and
officers without uniform; many coming from distant stations to witness
the race, which was the most important in that part of the Punjab.
Several of the British, and one or two of the native officers of the
Ahmednuggur Irregular Cavalry, had travelled down to back Lieutenant
Harrington. A wild-looking native officer of the Guides, who had come to
watch Spencer Sahib win the cup, was pointed out by Jim as a celebrated
robber and cut-throat, Bahram Khan by name.
"Rummy beggar is Bahram Khan!" declared the captain. "Dick Turpin was an
infant to him. Look how the Punjabis and Hindus are gazing at him, and
how he grins back--and then they begin to shiver."
"Why? Are they afraid of him?"
"Rather. I'll tell you who he is afterwards."
"A pleasant type of man to have in one's regiment, Ted," was Ethel's
comment in a stage aside.
"Disgusting!" was the laconic response.
On the outskirts of the crowd several Pathan dealers were taking
advantage of the presence of so many lovers of horses to sell their
ponies and country-bred steeds to the unwary. Nor were the inevitable
jugglers and snake-charmers wanting. The fences were stiff, even to the
lad who had hunted over the best country in Cheshire, and the
water-jumps were big, though no wider than some he had taken "The Padre"
over during the past few days. The course was rather more than three
miles, the last six hundred yards being a straight run to the
winning-post.
A native officer came out of the throng and caressed "The Padre".
"Mind you win, Ensign Sahib," laughed Subadar Pir Baksh, "for the honour
of the corps."
"I will try my best, Subadar," Ted assured him; and Pir Baksh showed his
even white teeth as he playfully threatened the ensign should he lose.
"Now, old boy," was Ethel's greeting, "never speak to me again if our
'Padre' loses--he's the horse of the regiment, you must remember.
Whatever you do don't let that horrid Guide man win. An upstart corps
like that, recruited from Thugs and Dacoits, must never get the better
of the old-established 193rd."
"'Horrid Guide man' indeed!" laughed Jim. "Spencer's one of the best men
I know; and remember, my lady, that you will be a Guide woman very
soon."
Changing the subject he added: "You're only fifth favourite, Ted."
"Didn't know I was so high as that. Who's favourite?"
"The 'horrible Guide' horse and the 'Duck's' mount, 'Flying Fox', are
equal, the Ahmednuggur comes next, and you are fifth."
"Never mind, Ted," said Ethel encouragingly. "'The Padre' was second
favourite when it was thought that Markham would be up, and you're
lighter than he."
"But that won't make any difference; I shall have to carry the extra
weight."
"Oh, will you? That's not fair!"
Jim laughed. "Go and talk to the handicapper, Ethel; use your wiles on
the innocent man and explain the unfairness! I intended to put a couple
of rupees, young 'un, on Spencer's 'Cabul' for the sake of the corps,
but this tyrant has forbidden the transaction. Never get engaged, lad;
you see what it's brought me to--I have to obey. She says that she
objects to betting, but in reality she objects to my sticking up for my
own regiment."
"I'm ashamed of your relative, Ted," the girl asserted. "He's no
brotherly feeling. Fancy wanting to bet against your mount!"
"It's just like him!" the ensign feelingly declared. "I don't understand
how anyone so dainty as you, Ethel, could stoop to such an Orson."
Ethel blushed and Jim exploded.
"Here, drop that, young 'un; you mustn't trespass on my preserves. Fancy
the kid paying a compliment of that kind! Why, little woman, he told me
about ten days ago that you were 'a very ordinary sort of girl', and
that 'he didn't see much in you'."
"Well, he's made up for it now. It was a very pretty compliment, Ted,
and I thank you.... I often wonder myself."
After the preliminary canter Ted brought his horse to the starting-post,
where seven other competitors had already assembled. "The Padre" was not
the technical favourite, yet he was decidedly the most popular horse
there, for Captain Markham was better liked by the sepoys of the 193rd
than any of the officers, although Colonel Woodburn and several of the
others were highly popular with the men. The sepoys quite drowned all
the other noises of the crowd by their vociferous acclamations, and the
young rider was the recipient of numerous encouraging remarks and hearty
good-wishes from his brother officers and from the ladies of the
Aurungpore station.
Lieutenant Spencer's black horse "Cabul" had now advanced to the
position of first favourite. "Cabul" was easily the best-looking horse
present, as his rider was the most handsome and perfect horseman. The
officer of the Guides Cavalry sat like a centaur, and our hero saw at a
glance that he could not hope to compete in "noble horsemanship" with
his brother's comrade. The black, however, seemed nervous and fretful,
and his shoulders were lightly flecked with foam. Bahram Khan, the
famous brigand chief, sat by Spencer's side before they prepared for the
start, soothing and caressing the noble beast as he talked earnestly to
its rider.
"He's a good horse," observed Markham, "but he's not perfect; his
shoulders can't compare with 'The Padre's', and I doubt whether he's
quite so game, for mine enjoys it, and that's not common in
steeple-chasing. You should beat him down the hill."
Mr. Vernon's light chestnut was also a handsome animal, far more so than
the lean gray of the Ahmednuggur Irregulars.
The ensign's nerve was largely affected by the unwonted excitement as he
reined his mount alongside the others; an indistinguishable mass of
white and brown humanity appeared to float before his eyes; and all he
heard of the shouts and comments was a confused and distant murmuring,
or rather buzzing. Mechanically he prepared for the start.
The flag dropped, and the starter scurried to one side; "The Padre"
leapt from under him and plunged away, the spectators seeming to swim
past. He shook off the trance and partially recovered his
self-possession. In front were Mr. Vernon's "Flying Fox", and another
and darker chestnut. Aligned with him were the Ahmednuggur gray and a
bay; the remaining three were slightly to the rear, for the pace was one
that would soon tell.
Miss Woodburn watched with much anxiety as they came to the first fence,
and began to regret that she was responsible for inducing the boy to
take part in the dangerous pastime. But "The Padre" went over like a
bird, and no one came to grief. The second and third obstacles were well
taken by the whole field, but the leading chestnut (the horse of a
comrade) fell at the fourth and was out of it. At the next--a
water-jump--the Ahmednuggur gray swerved and lost ground, and a moment
later the bay, who had got in front, carried away one of the
hurdles--the easiest obstacle of the course. Ted was now calm enough to
take all this in, and he became aware that he had only two horses to
fear, "Cabul" and "Flying Fox". The black was now about a length behind,
whilst the chestnut was almost as much in front of him.
More than two miles had been covered before "Cabul" began to forge
slowly ahead of "The Padre", and to gain gradually on "Flying Fox", who,
by his tail's convulsive twitching and his heaving flanks, was beginning
to throw out signals of distress.
Even at that exciting moment the boy could not but admire the strong
seat, light firm hands, and splendid horsemanship of Lieutenant Spencer.
They had approached a hedge side by side, and though "The Padre" was
going quite as well as, if not even better than "Cabul", the latter
seemed to glide over the obstacle and was away on the other side a good
yard in front. The boy knew that the time was lost in collecting his
horse for the jump, and after landing on the other side, and as he felt
convinced that his mount was speedier and quicker on his legs than
Spencer's, and had better shoulders for landing, he could not understand
how his rival managed to fly the fences with so little decrease in his
speed and collect himself and get away on the other side without a
pause. And it seemed no effort!
The last jump was taken by the black a length in front of the gray, who
in his turn had beaten the chestnut by nearly as much. No other horse
was within thirty yards of the leader. But whereas Spencer had driven
his steed speedily at this wide water-jump, and had cleared it in
gallant style, "The Padre" jumped slightly short, and though he quickly
pulled himself together, he was now nearly two lengths behind. Still he
was going merrily and gamely, with any amount of spring and stay, and
the ensign recognized despairingly that he bestrode the swifter and more
clever horse, and was being beaten by his rival's horsemanship and
superior judgment.
And it is now a straight run to the judge's stand. Ted fancies to his
delight that "Cabul" appears somewhat done, and his rider is undoubtedly
having to urge him along for the first time. But with Spencer--in
striking contrast to the rider of the bay who came to grief at the
solitary line of hurdles--there is no flourishing of the whip, no
nervous jerking of the reins: the officer of the Guides preserves his
calm and impassive demeanour, for he understands his mount. In his
excitement the boy speaks to "The Padre", and that willing beast seems
to comprehend and gallantly responds.
From her horse's back, on a little mound near the judge's box, Ethel
Woodburn cranes forward eagerly. Yes, down the hill the gray is slowly
gaining on the black!
One hundred and fifty yards away and "The Padre's" head is level with
"Cabul's" tail. They see Ted for the first time touch the horse lightly
with his heels, the spur pricking a handsbreadth behind the girths; a
couple of quick strokes with the whip and the clever gray knows that the
time has come, and they see him bound forward. Eighty yards away and
Ted's knee is in line with "Cabul's" tail. The black is labouring hard,
and under an ordinary rider would have given in, but Lieutenant Spencer
is no ordinary rider.
Two more strides and the riders are level, and amid a roar which breaks
out on every side, and which the boy only hears as a distant murmur,
"The Padre" wins by a neck.