CHAPTER II

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.