For a moment there was silence, as if the crowd could not grasp the
import of the amazing feat it witnessed; as if senses had not yet
registered results in human brains. Then a great shout arose,
gathering force as it swept along. They stamped, they cheered, they
yelled, they waved wild, excited hands with handkerchiefs, umbrellas,
canes, anything that was in them. They went mad and prolonged the
sound until it was deafening. And there did not seem to be one in
that whole crowd who remembered that the man for whom they were
shouting had been for years despised by them all.
No one noticed Jean, with her face wreathed in smiles, sparkling with
tears, and her heart beating wildly with joy. She stood on her
railed platform, one hand upon her breast to still its excitement,
the other hand wiping away her foolish tears which she hoped to get
rid of before anybody had time to notice them. It was all so
wonderful, so beautiful to her to have her lover recognized in this
way. To be sure, it was only an athletic feat, no recognition of his
sterling worth the crowd were giving him in this ovation. She was
not deceived. She knew it did not mean any change of their
relations; no difference in the circumstances that divided them; but
it was something great and beautiful to her to have even his riding
recognized thus enthusiastically.
The cheering continued in round after round for several minutes.
Holt had dismounted, halting his horse for a moment, and stood facing
the shouting mob, reluctant, yet as if it were something that had to
be performed in order to stop their noise. Then with a slight,
dignified bow he turned away, and walked toward the fallen rider.
Already a doctor had been called and a crowd was gathering. Holt
dispersed them with a wave of his hand, and kneeling beside the
injured man, began ministering to him with skilful, tender hand,
regardless of the shouting of the throng who cheered this new action
yet more madly.
A delegation came in hot haste to bring the hero to the judges' stand
where Jean, with shining eyes and excited, happy face, stood waiting
with the wreath in her hand to crown him, but he paid not the
slightest attention to them. Instead he raised a silver whistle to
his lips and blew a keen, sweet blast, that even in their excitement
startled the crowd and made them remember the tales connected with
that whistle and the deeds it had summoned men to do.
Two men jumped down instantly from the front seat of the grandstand
and were at his side before the echo of the whistle had died away.
Jean saw them and knew them for the men who had ridden out of the
woods the day that Scathlin attacked her. They were his special
bodyguard, his faithful, tried and true. He sent them off with a
word, and in a moment they were back with a hastily improvised
stretcher and, lifting the injured man from the ground, bore him away
to the tent that had been set up for the use of the ladies. Holt
would have followed but for the detaining committee, who laid hands
upon him now and insisted eagerly, compellingly, that he was holding
up the whole performance and he had no right to spoil the day and
keep the lady waiting. Even then Holt might have resisted had they
not made mention of the lady, and he looked up and caught her eye and
wistful smile--for he had no mind to be further in the public eye--he
had ridden for Jean, but he wanted not their favors. He took off his
hat to her and came forward, and the action touched off the crowd
again into a hoarser cry of excitement than before. Someone, madder
than the rest, even ventured to bring his name into the cry: "Holt!
Holt! Holt! _Hurrah!_"
Holt lifted up his head proudly at that and went forward, not as a
man goes who is ashamed before his fellow men. His bearing was of
one who dares to face others, a "gentleman, unafraid." The shout
died down in hushed surprise, and then rose on a higher wave that had
in it something of the honor and respect his bearing had demanded.
And so he came and knelt before her.
In all that wild, excited company only Eleanor Harrington sat unmoved.
"What are they shouting again for?" she asked her husband
impatiently. "Isn't this thing almost over? I'm tired."
"They are calling Holt to come to the stand and receive the prize,"
said Harrington, under his breath, as if it were a bitter thing for
him to see.
"How annoying!" said Eleanor, rising to look. "And I suppose Jean
will have to present it. If I had foreseen any such thing as this I
would have forbidden her to take such a prominent position. I think
they have made altogether too much fuss over that creature already.
It was an _impertinence_ in him to come to-day and he knew it. He
oughtn't to be encouraged. I wonder you didn't take steps to have
him put out at the start, James. But, James! There is one thing,
Jean _must not_ ride around the track with him! I simply _will not
have it_! You must go down there quickly and tell her not to.
_Forbid_ it! Tell her to say she is sick or anything, only she must
not ride with him. Quick! Go, James! or it will be too late! She
won't have sense enough herself. It will be just like her to think
she must, she is so afraid of hurting people's feelings. See, she is
standing up with the wreath in her hands. Why don't you go?"
"Hush!" said Harrington, drawing his wife down into her seat again
and speaking in a low tone: "Hush! Somebody will hear you. Don't
you see she's got to go now? Don't you understand that public
opinion will demand it? She'd be a fool to turn back now, she must
go the whole show. Besides, I can't afford to get his ill-will, and
if she didn't go with him Holt would know I had prevented her."
"You can't _afford_!" said his wife angrily. "You can't afford!" and
she raised her voice in astonishment and dismay. "What do you mean?
I thought you told me only a few days ago that you had him where he
couldn't do you any more harm?"
"Hush, Eleanor, haven't you any sense at all? This is no place to
discuss business matters. Don't say another word. Things have
changed. I had a message from Scathlin. It's all up! Don't mention
the matter to Jean, let her ride with him if she likes. I've got to
make friends with him somehow or I'm in a bad hole."
Eleanor's face would have been a sight for the neighbors if they had
not been too busy shouting to notice.
"Well, I think things have come to a pretty pass if my sister's
reputation has to be sacrificed for business," she retorted.
The white, furious look her husband gave her silenced her, however,
and she sat back struggling to master her own feelings and understand
what her husband had meant.
Dazed and indignant she beheld what was going on at the judges' stand.
Jasper Holt was kneeling almost reverently before the girl whom he
had twice saved from death, his bright head bowed, and she, with her
eyes all starry bright and a little pink flush stealing into her
cheeks, bent and laid the laurel wreath upon his brow.
The crowd hushed its sound while the little ceremony was performed
and then shouted aloud again, while Jasper Holt arose and, gracefully
as any of the gentlemen assembled could have done it, helped the lady
down the steps and to her saddle; then mounting rode beside her,
bowing gravely to right and left where were drawn up in line those
other contestants over whom he had won his so-great victory. These,
in spite of their chagrin, were bowing and smiling graciously, for
they would not have the lady know how bitter was their defeat; and so
together rode the two, silently, amid the storm of cheers, out into
the arena and around the track.
Holt did not presume upon the occasion nor his position to show his
intimacy with the girl beside him. Instead he rode with respectful
mien, save for one grave, understanding smile at the start, by which
she knew how much he hated all this publicity and would have slipped
away without it but for her sake. As if their every word and look
could have been heard in all that din, they rode with downcast eyes
and silent lips, and there was nothing in the whole journey around
the course that could in the least offend the watching, anxious,
mortified sister.
Not until they were almost back to the judges' stand did Holt attempt
to even glance her way, and then he spoke quite low:
"You are going on the morning train?"
She bowed assent because she could not speak. A rush of tears was in
her throat at thought of leaving.
"I shall see you again to say good-bye," he said, and gave her one
look and smile that filled her heart joy. Then he left her at the
judges' stand with a low bow and rode out of the arena alone; a long,
appreciative shout following him out of sight.
Jean, her heart too full for words, watched him; then turned to face
her host of friends, who, making the best of their disappointment,
were clustering around her and saying pleasant things.
The madness of the crowd over the late hero was dying down even now
with his disappearance from the arena. Habit and prejudice were
having sway once more. Men laughed deprecatorily over their recent
frenzy and said: "Well that certainly was great riding. It takes a
dare-devil to do the impossible. Of course, we know Holt can ride;
still I didn't really think he could do as well as that."
By the time they were out on the street and back in their homes they
had recovered their sanity enough to agree with their wives that it
was a great piece of impudence for him to ride in and take all the
honors away from the men who had worked so hard to make the affair a
success. Yet all in their hearts felt again the thrill of excitement
as they thought of those last fifty yards of the race, and secretly
rejoiced that, impudence or not, Holt had entered the lists.
"You poor little girl," gushed Mrs. Thorne over Jean. "It certainly
was a shame that you couldn't have had a more respectable escort in
your ride around the track. Of course he looked very well and all
that, I wasn't meaning his clothes; and he really behaved much better
than I would have expected for him, quite modest, getting out of the
way and not presuming at the end. It was so much better than if he
had had to be asked to leave, you know, but still, it was a great
disappointment that some of your _friends_ couldn't have shared the
honor with you. Freeman, I know, will be terribly down about not
winning."
"Thank you, Mrs. Thorne," said Jean sweetly, "I am sorry your son had
to be disappointed, but of course everyone couldn't win, although
they all did well, don't you think? But, after all, you know Mr.
Holt _is_ one of my friends, in fact my first friend, because he
saved my life in the wreck when I was on my way here, and helped me
to get here. I really felt it quite an honor to ride with him
to-day."
She turned pleasantly to greet the wife of one of the officers from
the Fort and left poor Mrs. Thorne to gasp and roll her eyes in
astonishment. "Of course she doesn't know him; she doesn't
understand," said the poor woman in an aside to Eleanor who came up
just then. "And perhaps it's just as well she shouldn't, as she's
going home so soon. Poor Freeman! I don't know what he'll do. He's
completely gone over her!"
Then all those fluttering girls came around Jean and began to talk at
once.
"Oh, wasn't he simply great! And isn't he handsome in those togs?
And isn't it a shame he has to be so wicked? And such a woman hater?
I declare I thought he was going to refuse to ride around with you.
And, oh, Jean, you sly thing! You knew he was going to enter when
you talked about it the other day, didn't you?"
They chattered and buzzed, and the young men came presently and bore
them away one at a time. It was the Captain, patient and
persevering, who at last, by his very persistence, won the right to
ride back to the house by Jean's side. Poor Captain, his last ride,
and that glorious smile in her eyes, but not for him!
She was gentle with him when he tried again to persuade her to accept
his love. She told him with a wistful sigh that all happiness in
this world was not in getting what we wanted, but in knowing things
were real and true and fine. She said she should always think of him
as her friend, and she hoped he would forget that he had wanted
anything else; and she thanked him for his beautiful orchids so
sweetly that she left a warm glow in his heart, notwithstanding his
double defeat.
Later, as she knelt before her window-seat and looked out into the
sweet starry night, and over toward the cottage where the Golden
Sunset roses grew, she forgot all the petty things that had been
bothering her all day, and just let herself be glad for a little
while. Then she bowed her head and prayed: "Dear Father, I thank
Thee for letting them see so much. Please, some day let them all
know him as he really is. Bless him and keep him. I trust him with
Thee, dear Lord."
And when she fell asleep at last weary with the long day and the
excitement, against her pillow under her cheek there lay soft cool
petals of the golden roses, and their fragrance mingled with her
dreams and brought a smile to her lips.