A little after four the bell in the judges' stand clanged for the last race. John turned to Julia, who sat by his side.
"That summons The Prince!" he remarked, smiling.
He had never seen her more beautiful. Her cheeks were flushed from excitement, and her eyes were starry. She sighed, and looked at him anxiously.
"Be of good courage!" he said. "They cannot beat him!"
The horses were beginning to appear, and a brave showing they made; a sight to make any Kentuckian's heart swell with enthusiasm. Devil Marston's two racers came up first, and Glenning saw that they were built in becoming manner. Then as the bay colt walked proudly down the stretch with Uncle Peter on his back, a thunderous wave of acclaim rent the air. John turned once more to Julia, and he saw that her eyes were moist. The weighing of the jockeys and the drawing for place went forward speedily. There were five entries, and Peter came in the middle, the third from the pole. Then the jockeys were in the saddle again, and had started up the stretch to score. Again the eyes of the man went to the girl beside him. Her gloved hands were over her face, and he could see that she was making a mighty effort for control. He heard the piercing voice of the starter ordering some one to hold back.
"Look!" he exclaimed; "don't miss the getaway!"
Her hands dropped and her face came up bravely. She was pale now.
Leaning forward, John saw the line of horses coming nicely and well, and Peter trying with all his puny strength to hold The Prince in his place. His efforts were only partly successful, for the colt had come into his own at last, but as the group dashed under the wire that thrilling word "Go!" was hurled at them. There was a rustle and stir from end to end of the grandstand, as the immense crowd arose to its feet, the man and the girl with the rest. Their eyes were set on those flying forms skimming over the earth like birds. To the first quarter there was scarcely any change, for there was no mongrel blood racing in Kentucky on that great day. Neck and neck the brave brutes ran; panting side to panting side. So they whirled into the home stretch for the first time. Almost in front of his mistress the noble colt sprang out at the half, and took the pole! It was beyond belief! It was marvelous—unequalled in the annals of the turf! For it was not done in a quarter of a mile; it was done at once, in half a dozen leaps. Julia's heart sang with joy, and a choking feeling of elation hurt her throat. A smile of wonderment crept to her lips and stayed there, while The Prince led the next half mile and came under the wire two lengths ahead of Daystar, his closest antagonist.
The wooden structure upon which they stood shook, so fierce and long was the applause, and hands were thrust at Major Dudley and Julia so fast that they could not take them all, while a confused chorus of congratulations was poured upon them. But this was only the beginning. There might be many more heats. John went on the track to have a closer look at The Prince. The colt was breathing deeply and regularly; not a hair was turned from sweat and he showed no signs of distress. Some of the others were full of lather and were blowing heavily. The pace had been fast. Presently all withdrew to rest, and be rubbed down. Uncle Peter was exalted to the seventh heaven of delight as he rode away, prouder than Solomon in his palmiest days.
The next heat, however, was a shock, a surprise and a revelation. Imperial Don, Devil Marston's other entry, pushed his nose under the wire about six inches ahead of the colt's. People were dumfounded, for the horse had run fourth in the first heat, and not one had supposed him to be a possible winner.