Hunt Cup winner giving Rainstorm the go-by over two miles--it was
hardly credible; but there was the hard fact.

"Ah!"

Mr. Hallam exclaimed loudly.

"Hurrah!"

He shouted at the top of his voice.

"Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah!"

The cry came again in three loud, victorious cheers.

And what caused it? Why this sudden change from despondency to joyful
hope of victory?

Rainstorm, after a prodigious effort on Bradley's part, drew level with
Bandmaster, got his head in front, kept it there, and the judge's box
was only a few yards away. A wonderful bit of riding, a great and
gallant effort on the part of a good horse.

Tommy almost yelled as he drove Bandmaster along; to be defeated after
all, no, he couldn't stand that. He never rode a better race and he
had a good horse under him.

The last effort made by Rainstorm seemed likely to carry him first past
the post, and Bernard Hallam was sure of winning. Bandmaster, however,
would not be denied, the horse divined there was danger of losing;
being full of courage he resented this and put forth his strength and
speed to stave off defeat. How he did it Colley could not tell, but by
some almost magical power he drew level with Rainstorm again and the
desperate struggle continued.

The best thoroughbred never knows when he is beaten; so it was in the
case of Bandmaster, who hung on to his opponent with bulldog tenacity.
Bernard Hallam hardly believed it possible that Alan's horse had again
got on terms with Rainstorm. The angle was deceiving and his colors
still appeared to be in front; so thought hundreds of others.

For a brief moment the eyes of the jockeys met; each saw grim
determination there, then they looked ahead and the judge's box loomed
up clear and close.

The finish was thrilling. As they flashed past the post the question
was asked, "What's won?" and nobody could tell.

"Close as The Duke's race," said one.

"Gone one better; Rainstorm won," said one of the Australians.

"Don't think so; that was a terrific run of Bandmaster's," replied
another.

The numbers seemed a long time going up, then number one was slipped
in; before the roar of Bandmaster's supporters died away number two
appeared alongside it. The result was a dead heat--a mighty
struggle--a dead heat over two miles. The owners were not likely to
run it off, so which was the better horse was not settled and there
would be much food for argument.

CHAPTER XXI

THE RAI