"He's all right," said Owen.
Over the wide green the horses began to string out, with Firefly ahead.
"She's going to win it; I believe she is," exclaimed Harry excitedly as he and Owen stood in the automobile. "No—no; he wobbled at the fourth jump. He's losing ground."
But Firefly seemed suddenly to grip his strength as one horse passed him. He pulled himself together under Pauline's urging. He regained the lead.
They came down splendidly toward the homestretch. The bodies of the powerful beasts rose one by one over the last hedge.
"They're over! They've won—or, heaven help her! They're down!"
Leading at the last jump, the drugged heart of the great horse had conquered his courage. As he stumbled heavily, Pauline shot over his head and lay helpless in the path of the other riders.
Harry, dashing madly toward the track, but hopelessly far from her, had to turn away his head as the crashing hoofs passed her. When he looked again, attendants were carrying her swiftly to the clubhouse. He sped toward it, Owen following.
Harry tore his way through the excited crowd to the side of Pauline. A doctor was administering restoratives. Pauline opened her eyes and looked about her bewildered. She saw Harry's anxious face and smiled penitently.
"I've—learned a lesson this time," she whispered.