Chukkers leaned far out and slashed the oncoming bay across the face; and the crowds on the Embankment and in the saloon-carriages on the railway heard distinctly the swish-swish of the falling whip.
A groan of satisfaction went up from the taut onlookers. Chukkers's action had cleared him. Indeed he had killed two birds with one stone, and nearly a third. Kingfisher shied away over the course and crossed the path of Gee-Woa, who was going steady on the right. Both horses went down. Surging along behind the Yorkshireman, calm and unconcerned by the flurry and rush and confusion in front, came a great brown horse, the last of the galloping rout. He flew the ruin of men and horses broadcast before him on the grass, bounced twice, as Old Mat said, and cleared the fence in front with a foot to spare.
"Double!" roared the crowd, applauding horse and horseman alike.
Jim Silver sighed.
"Nearly bounced you, Mr. Woodburn," said the White Hat in front. "That lad of yours can ride."
"Bounce is the boy," answered the old man. "Nothing like it. Now there's more room."
"Where's Miss Woodburn?" asked the garrulous White Hat.
"In heaven, my lord, I 'opes," answered the other, wiping his eye.
The old gentleman looked foolish and made a face.
"Oh, dear. I'm sorry. I hadn't heard."