acquiescence
appeared significant. It looked as if the two had joined hands, and that
was what he most dreaded. An almost overpowering rage against the
Canadian possessed him. When he attempted to mount, the chestnut gave him
trouble by backing and plunging; but the bay was quiet and Nasmyth stood
for a few moments by Lisle's stirrup.

"Save him a bit for the second round," he advised. "Another thing, look
out when you come to the big-brushed hurdles, particularly the second
time."

Batley volunteered as starter, and when he got them off satisfactorily
the spectators scattered, one or two to watch the pace across the plowed
land, the others moving toward the stiffest jumps--the course was roughly
circular.

The trial was a new experience to Lisle, and he felt the exhilaration of
it as, remembering his instructions, he strove to hold his mount.
Gladwyne's horse was a length ahead of him, the wind lashed his face, and
the thrill of the race grew keener when he swept over the first fence,
hard upon the flying chestnut's heels. He dropped another length behind
as they crossed the next field and labored over the sticky plowing; then
there was a low fence and ditch, a narrow meadow, and then the hurdles
Nasmyth had mentioned, filling a gap in a tall thorn hedge. They were
wattled with branches which projected a foot or so above them.

It did not look an easy jump and the grass was slippery and soft, but the
chestnut accomplished it cleverly and the bay flew at the hurdles with
every sign of confidence. Then, though Lisle felt the hoofs slide as the
beast took off, they were over and flying faster than ever across a long,
wet field. As they approached the end of the first round, the chestnut
began to drop back; Lisle could let the bay go and he determined to bring
him home the winner. It was his first fast ride in England; and he had,
indeed, seldom urged a horse to its utmost pace--the British Columbian
trails, for the most part, led steeply up or down rugged hillsides, where
speed was out of the question. It was very different on these level
English meadows, though the ground was softer than usual and the fences
were troublesome. He rode with a zest and ardor he had hardly expected to
feel.

He led at the next fence and some of the onlookers shouted encouragement
when, drawing a little farther ahead, he once more reached the sticky
plowed land. Here the bay slowed a little, toiling across the clods, but
a glance over