All around him men were raging, cheering, and stamping. What the bookies were yelling nobody could hear; but it was clear from their faces that they believed the favourite was beat.
And their faith was based upon reality, since Chukkers for the first time in the history of the mare was using his whip.
Once it fell, and again, in terrible earnest. There was a gasp from the gathered multitudes as they saw and understood. That swift, relentless hand was sounding the knell of doom to the hopes of thousands.
Indeed, it was clear that Chukkers was riding now as he had never ridden before.
And the boy on the brown never moved.
Three fences from home Chukkers rallied the mare and called on her for a final effort.
Game to the last drop, she answered him.
But the outsider held his own without an effort.
Then the note of the thundering multitudes changed again with dramatic suddenness. Hope, that had died away, and Fear, that had vanished utterly, were a-wing once more. In the air they met and clashed tumultuously. America was soaring into the blue; England fluttering earthward again. And the cause was not far to seek.
The boy on the brown was tiring. He was swaying in his saddle.