"Stand down, England!"
"What price the Yankee-doodlers?"
"Who gives the Mustang best?"
In that tumult of sound, individual voices were lost. The yells of the bookies were indistinguishable. Men saw things through a mist, and more than one woman fainted.
Then through the terrific boom came the discordant blare of a megaphone, faint at first but swiftly overbearing the noise of the tempest.
"Watch it, ye ——!" it screamed. "He's catchin' ye!"
It was the voice of Jaggers.
The thousands heard and hushed. They recognised the voice and the note of terror in it.
Chukkers heard, too, turned, and had a glimpse of a green jacket surging up wide on his right.
There was the sound of a soughing wind as the crowd drew its breath.