“All right!” shouted Conover, in glorious excitement. “All right! Let him go! Never mind the hat.” Page [313].
But the Railroader was already preparing to mount.
“Don’t you worry, old girl,” he called back over his shoulder; “he’s none too wild for my taste. There never was a horse yet could get the best of me.”
The wind was rising again. It whistled across the grounds, ruffling the puddles and stirring the dead leaves. A whiff of it caught Conover’s hat as he fought his way to the plunging stallion’s back. The exultance of coming battle was already upon both rider and horse.
“Your hat, sir!” called one of the grooms, as another sprang forward to catch the falling headgear. But Caleb had no mind to wait for trifles. The night wind was in his face, the furious horse whirling and rearing between his vice-like knee-grip.
“All right!” shouted Conover in glorious excitement, signalling to the struggling groom to release the bit. “All right! Let him go! Never mind the hat. Come on, Giles.”
Dunderberg, his head freed, leaped forward as from a catapult. Master and man thundered away down the drive, and were swallowed in the blackness. The double roar of flying hoofs grew fainter, then was lost in the solemn hush of the autumn night.
CHAPTER XV
DUNDERBERG SOLVES THE DIFFICULTY
Clive Standish had spent the evening at the Civic League headquarters, awaiting reports of the day’s battle. The rooms were full of the League’s minor candidates and officials, with a fair sprinkling of women. Anice Lanier, chaperoned by her aunt, with whom she now lived, was there, her high color and the light in her big eyes alone betraying the fearful suspense under which she labored.