THE RIDER IN KHAKI
A splendid four-mile was planned out at Trent Park, a real test for
chasers, almost up to the famous Aintree Grand National journey. There
were stiff fences, two water jumps, some plough lane, and excellent
going on grass. The horse that won would be a good 'un.
Bandmaster had done a great preparation. The trainer did not spare
him; he had been over the course three or four times.
Sam Kerridge's son Will was to ride in the event of Captain Chesney's
not being able to do so.
It was a clear, bright, sharp morning, and from an early hour motors
and buses came by road. There was every promise of a big gathering
even without the use of train service. Keen sportsmen were not to be
denied the pleasure of such a meeting by any inconveniences they might
have to put up with.
Eve Berkeley and her house party arrived in good time. Duncan Fraser
was one, he attached himself to Ella Hallam. She could not fail to
notice he was attracted. She liked him, his sterling worth appealed to
her and Eve was always singing his praises.
Bernard Hallam was friendly with him. He was not at all displeased to
notice Fraser and Ella were on excellent terms. He was partial to keen
business men and such an one was Duncan Fraser.
There were three events before the Trent Grand Steeplechase, but the
chief interest was centered in the big event, on which there was a lot
of wagering.
Baron Childs was running Handy Man, a formidable steeplechaser who had
missed the Grand National by an ace on two occasions. He was fully
expected to make amends for two unlucky seconds at Aintree.
There was an interval of nearly an hour between the third event and the
Steeplechase. The time was occupied in wagering and looking at the
twenty-seven runners.
Bandmaster was favorite, the popularity of his owner had much to do
with this. An official account of Alan's mission to Brussels had been
made public, and he was the hero of the hour; much was given out but it
was guessed more remained to be disclosed.
Apart from this, Bandmaster was regarded as a great horse. If half as
good over a steeplechase course as on the flat he must possess a great
chance. His speed was undeniable. If he proved a safe jumper nothing
would be able to live with him on the flat at the finish. Fred Skane's
opinion was known. The trainer had little fear of defeat. He said
confidently that Bandmaster would carry the brown and blue to victory.
Eve Berkeley never looked better. Her cheeks glowed with health. She
was happy--Alan was safe, what else mattered? She was radiant. Baron
Childs did not conceal his admiration. She wore costly furs; they
became her well. She walked proudly because of her hero, the man of
the hour, the bravest of the brave.
There was only one thing lacking. If Alan could have ridden Bandmaster
how glorious it would have been.
The party from The Forest caught her enthusiasm and exuberance of
spirits. Their merry laughter rang clear and joyous.
Captain Morby was there, paying a flying visit from the front to see
Bandmaster win. He had not met Alan since his return from his
adventure.
It was half an hour before the race and a bustling scene took place as
the twenty-seven horses were put to rights.
Riders hurried across the enclosure, stopping to speak to friends,
colors just showing through the half-open coats, for the air was
nipping. Most of them were gentlemen jockeys, five or six officers who
had won their spurs over stiff courses and had capped this by brave
actions at the front. Everybody recognized that racing, sport
generally, had much to do with the wonderful heroism displayed in the
war.
Will Kerridge was anxious. He hoped Bandmaster would win. He wanted
the ride badly, but would have stood down gladly to let Alan Chesney
have the mount. Fred Skane said nothing to him about Alan's intention
to arrive home in time to have the ride on his horse. He was glad he
had not mentioned it now; he thought Alan was detained, that he had not
sufficiently recovered from his wounds to bear the journey.
A quarter of an hour more it was hopeless to expect him and yet even
now Fred did not quite give up hope.
He looked anxiously about, raised his glasses and fixed them on the
road from Trent Park house. Nobody was coming. After all, Kerridge
must ride--and win. He had given particular instructions how
Bandmaster was to be handled. The riding of the horse had been
discussed at the stud groom's house on several occasions. Sam was very
anxious his son should win.
While the bustle and excitement was at its height at Trent Park a
powerful motor car was speeding along the high-road at top pace. The
driver was experienced and working under pressure, he had been promised
a liberal tip if he arrived in time.
Behind sat Alan, endeavoring to restrain his feelings and keep quiet.
From time to time he looked at his watch and replaced it in his pocket
with an impatient movement.
The car stopped with a jerk. The driver was out in a moment. Alan
followed. What was wrong?
The tool box was relied upon. The man knew his work. In a quarter of
an hour the car moved on, but precious time had been lost.
"We'll do it all right," said the driver.
Alan doubted, but held his peace. It would be a terrible
disappointment to arrive too late.
He must keep as calm as possible, excitement was bad for him, his nerve
had been severely tried.
The landscape became more familiar with each mile passed. He was lucky
to be home again. He gave a few thoughts to his recent adventures and
was thankful he had pulled through.
The Park appeared in the distance. A glance at the watch showed it
would be "neck or nothing," he might just do it.
Something went wrong with the steering gear, the car swerved and the
front wheels stuck in the ditch. The driver was shot out and Alan
flung against the back of the front seat. The man was unhurt and on
his feet in a few seconds.
Alan swore; he could not help it.
"Lost by a few seconds," he said.
"I'll have her out," said the driver, who was in the car. By much
display of skill and force he backed it out, fixed the steering gear,
and said:
"Get in, sir, we'll do it yet. Is that the course?" and he pointed to
where the flags waved.
"That's it," said Alan excitedly.
"Is the going on the grass good?"
"Yes."
"Then I'll steer straight for it."
The car bounded over the turf with occasional jumps. Alan held on to
the seat, no chance, the race was timed for three-thirty. The horses
must be going out. He hoped they would be late. Probably there were
many runners, a big field, and the weighing facilities improvised for
the occasion would not conduce to rapidity.
Fred Skane took a final sweep over the Park through his glasses. He
saw the car, guessed who it was and, calling to Will Kerridge not to go
out on to the course for a minute, made a bolt to the entrance gate.
The car pulled up quickly. Alan sprang out.
"You, Fred, am I in time?" he said.
"Just follow me," replied Fred as he ran toward the weighing room.
"Get into the scales. Eleven stone," he yelled, then bolted to find
the stewards.
There was a hurried consultation. Major Daven consulted for a few
minutes, then went to the weighing room.
"God bless me--Chesney! This is a surprise," he gasped.
"Can I ride Bandmaster?" asked Alan breathlessly.
"Yes, of course; I'll tell 'em. They're not all out yet. God bless my
soul, this is a surprise! How do you feel?" said the Major, giving out
orders between gasps, sending attendants flying in all directions.
"No time to change; I'll have to ride in khaki," said Alan.
"And there's no better color," said the Major.
"How about the weight?" said the trainer, stumbling and gasping.
"All right; two pounds over weight," said the clerk of the scales.
"Declare it," said Fred.
"Two pounds over," shouted the Major; "up with it on the board, owner
up, don't stand there gaping. Bandmaster's the horse--fly! God bless
my soul, what a surprise it will be!"
Alan pitched his cap in a corner.
"You've spurs on, don't use them."
"All right," said Alan.
"And I say, mind the water jumps--they're stiff."
"All right," said Alan as he was rushing out, the trainer on his heels
shouting hints and instructions.
"Something's causing delay," said the Baron, noticing three or four
horses still in the paddock.
Eve looked.
"Bandmaster is still there," she said, "and Kerridge has dismounted."
"There's a regular bustle round the weighing room," said Harry Morby.
They saw attendants running in and out and Fred Skane hurriedly
appearing, making for Bandmaster.
A buzz of excitement rose; inquiries were made; a feeling of suspense
was in the air.
A man climbed up to the number board. Eve saw him.
"A rider changed at the last minute," she said.
Then she noticed Will Kerridge's name taken out and her heart almost
stopped beating. She trembled, became pale with excitement.
"Good Lord, what's up?" exclaimed Mr. Hallam. "Shall I go and find
out?"
"No occasion," said Harry excitedly. "Look!"
A khaki-clad figure, a soldier in officer's uniform, much worn and
travel-stained, with no cap, came tearing out of the weighing room and
across the paddock to where Bandmaster stood.
"By all that's wonderful, it's Alan!" exclaimed Duncan Fraser.
"Yes, yes!" said Eve, and felt on the verge of fainting. She could
hardly believe her eyes. It was Alan sure enough, marvelous. How had
he got there? She quivered with the tumult of her feelings. The
surprise was too much for her, the exquisite joy of seeing him again
overcame her.
Alan shook hands hurriedly with Will Kerridge.
"Sorry to take the mount from you, Will," he said with a smile.
"You're welcome, Captain; I'm right glad you came in time," was the
reply.
Alan mounted and rode Bandmaster on to the course.
"Who is the rider in khaki?" asked a well-known man.
"Blest if I know. He's riding Bandmaster too." He turned to look at
the board.
"Well, of all the wonderful things!" he exclaimed. "It's Captain
Chesney, the owner; he must have just arrived from the front in time."