Two more fences came, laced high and stiff with the Shire thorn, and
with scarce twenty feet between them, the heavy plowed land leading to
them, clotted, and black, and hard, with the fresh earthy scent steaming
up as the hoofs struck the clods with a dull thunder--Pas de Charge rose
to the first: distressed too early, his hind feet caught in the thorn,
and he came down, rolling clear of his rider; Montacute picked him up
with true science, but the day was lost to the Heavy Cavalry man. Forest
King went in and out over both like a bird and led for the first time;
the chestnut was not to be beat at fencing and ran even with him; Wild
Geranium flew still as fleet as a deer--true to her sex, she would not
bear rivalry; but little Grafton, though he rode like a professional,
was but a young one, and went too wildly; her spirit wanted cooler curb.
And now only Cecil loosened the King to his full will and his full
speed. Now only the beautiful Arab head was stretched like a racer's in
the run-in for the Derby, and the grand stride swept out till the hoofs
seemed never to touch the dark earth they skimmed over; neither whip
nor spur was needed, Bertie had only to leave the gallant temper and the
generous fire that were roused in their might to go their way and hold
their own. His hands were low, his head a little back, his face very
calm; the eyes only had a daring, eager, resolute will lighting them;
Brixworth lay before him.
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