With a thrust of her powerful shoulders, Incubus sent Dernier Cri staggering into the geraniums that bordered the field. She thrust a hoof into the path of Kropotkin and sent him and his rider sprawling on the track. She murmured something into Epigram's ear and that black colt turned light grey and refused to budge another step.
There were now three horses between Incubus and Prunella. Polyhymnia suddenly started to run backward. Sir Bleoberis buried his head in the sand and pretended he didn't notice the race was still going on. Cachucha—who had hitherto not been known as a jumper—hurdled the rail and dashed into the crowd of astonished players.
Still Incubus ran lightly before Prunella, half a length ahead, kicking dust in her face and making irritating remarks, while the enraged filly laid her ears back and bared white teeth to snap at her rival. One length before the finish line Incubus suddenly stopped short, leaving momentum to carry Prunella over the line to victory!
Prunella had won the race. Incubus was second but was disqualified for conduct unbecoming a horse and a lady. It was never determined who had run third.
"Together again at last, Watson," Incubus said during the joyful reunion in the paddock. "Ah, but it's been a long, long time...."
"Two weeks," commented the jockey, who had ridden Prunella.
"Listen, pipsqueak," Incubus told him irately. "I've spent the whole two weeks cooking up this speech and I don't want a half-pint like you spoiling it. It's been a long, long time, Watson...."
Prunella nickered.
"None of your lip, either," Incubus said. "Where would you have been if I hadn't won your race for you? Oh, you can run if you want to, can you? Ha! Ha! Plater!"
Prunella neighed angrily.