them. And at that time of all others the fact came up to me
with irresistible humour that I, a young colonial Whig, who had grown up
to detest these people, should be rubbing noses with them.

The duke put in an appearance five minutes before the hour, upon a bay
gelding, and attended by Lewis and Sir John Brooke, both mounted. As a
most particular evidence of the detestation in which Chartersea was held,
he could find nothing in common with such notorious rakes as March and
Sandwich. And it fell to me to champion these. After some discussion
between Fox and Captain Lewis, March was chosen umpire. His Lordship
took his post in the middle of the Row, drew forth an enamelled repeater
from his waistcoat, and mouthed out the conditions of the match,--the
terms, as he said, being private.

"Are you ready, Mr. Carvel?" he asked.

"I am, my Lord," I answered. The bells were pealing noon.

"Then mount, sir," said he.

The voices of the people dropped to a hum that brought to mind the long
forgotten sound of the bees swarming in the garden by the Chesapeake. My
breath began to come quickly. Through the sunny haze I saw the cows and
deer grazing by the Serpentine, and out of the back of my eye
handkerchiefs floated from the carriages banked at the gate. They took
the blanket off the stallion. Stall-fed, and excited by the crowd, he
looked brutal indeed. The faithful Banks, in a new suit of the Carvel
livery, held the stirrup, and whispered a husky "God keep you, sir!"
Suddenly I was up. The murmur was hushed, and the Park became still as a
peaceful farm in Devonshire. The grooms let go of the stallion's head.

He stood trembling like the throes of death. I gripped my knees as
Captain Daniel had taught me, years ago, when some invisible force
impelled me to look aside. From between the broad and hunching shoulders
of Chartersea I met such a venomous stare as a cattle-fish might use to
freeze his prey. Cattle--fish! The word kept running over my tongue. I
thought of the snaky arms that had already caught Mr. Marmaduke, and were
soon, perhaps, to entangle Dorothy. She had begged me not to ride, and
I was risking a life which might save hers.

The wind rushing in my ears and beating against my face awoke me all at
once. The trees ran madly past, and the water at my right was a silver
blur. The beast beneath me snorted as he rose and fell. Fainter and
fainter dropped the clamour behind me, which had risen as I started, and
the