beneath him, ready at a touch to break away and take the
lead: but he would be reckless enough by-and-by; reckless, as his nature
was, under the indolent serenity of habit.

Two more fences came, laced high and stiff with the Shire thorn, and
with scarce twenty feet between them, the heavy ploughed 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 men. 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 was a little back; his
face very calm; the eyes only had a daring, eager, resolute will
lighting in them; Brixworth lay before him. He knew well what Forest
King could do; but he did not know how great the chestnut Regent's
powers might be.

The water gleamed before them, brown and swollen, and deepened with the
meltings of winter snows a month before; the brook that has brought so
many to grief over its famous banks, since cavaliers leapt it with their
falcon on their wrist, or the mellow note of the horn rang over the
woods in the hunting days of Stuart reigns. They knew it well, that long
dark line, skimmering there in the sunlight, the test that all must pass
who go in for the Soldiers' Blue Ribbon. Forest King scented water, and
went on with his ears pointed, and his greyhound stride lengthening,
quickening, gathering up all its force and its impetus for the leap that
was before--then like the rise and the swoop of the heron he spanned the
w