The horses had settled to their gallop, their steady, rhythmical stride only varied as they rose at their fences, spread themselves, slid earthward and went away again with a steady roar of hoofs.
The three kept well together till they swung for home, then the white shirt began to bob up against the sky a second before the dark bodies of the other two showed.
"Tailin' 'em off," muttered Old Mat. "Ain't 'alf tuckin' into it, Four-Pound ain't."
Then Lollypop began to lag, and Jerry's arm was going.
"Stopped him dead," said Silver.
"And he's a good little two-mile hoss, too," replied Old Mat.
Another moment and the white shirt came over the last fence, the brown horse soaring like some great eagle.
Silvertail, clinging gamely to her leader, brushed through the fence and pecked heavily on landing.
Monkey punished her savagely.
"Ain't in a very pretty temper, Monkey ain't," muttered Old Mat, as the little jockey pulled aside and slipped off. "Now Make-Way-There'll take it up."