Under the very nose of the gray, the little piebald darted, with his rider half-hanging from the saddle and the knife ready for action. Even Bob’s well-trained animal swerved a little,—a trifle merely, but it cost his master the prize.
No perceptible halt, but a dip, a rise, and Tito was already half-way across the course again, his mistress rising in her saddle, and waving triumphantly above her head the shining knife with the handkerchief it had pierced clinging about the hilt.
Waving triumphantly above her head the shining knife with the handkerchief.—Page 58.
If they had cheered before, the crowd went fairly wild at that. Old Sutro and Connecticut Jim, sworn enemies that they were, turned in their saddles and hugged each other. Lord Plunkett shouted and waved till he looked apoplectic; and the reiterated cheers, “Another for the Little Un!” “Another!” brought Mr. Calthorp from his darkened office once more, this time with a smile upon his lips.
But the hour grew late, and the assemblage hungry. There was, accordingly, no delay in giving the last exhibition, which was Steenie’s alone.
“The child—prodigy—must not leave. Like her; like her!” said Lord Plunkett again, as the manager approached.
“I am glad that you are pleased; but I think that you will enjoy this driving scene even more. There is no racing, no danger. If the horses are not out of training, their action is wonderfully fine and graceful. Does that shout mean her entrance?”
“No. Horsemen. Single. Taking stations—regular intervals—around the track.”
“Yes; I understand. They do that to watch the horses, for the child’s sake. At the least intimation of any animal being fractious or out of accord with the rest, the nearest caballero rides up and sets the matter right. Usually a word of command will answer, but sometimes an outrider accompanies her for the whole distance,—an extra one, I mean, besides Bob, who always follows close behind Steenie; generally in silence, but ready with advice if it is needed. That second signal—is it she?”