"There's the one we've got to beat," Blister stated.
"Good horse," said Judge Dillon quietly.
3. Rob Roy—bl. s. by Tempus Fugit—dam Marigold. Henry L. Whitley, New York City. (Dawson—green and white.)
I read. I followed him with my eyes and wished him somewhere else. He looked so overpowering—he and the millions behind him.…
At last, a quarter of a mile away, they halted in a gorgeous shifting group. And the taut elastic webbing of the barrier that was to hold them from their flight a little longer, was stretched before them.
They surged against it like a parti-colored wave, and then receding, surged again, but always the narrow webbing held them back. I found the blue and gold. It was almost without motion—it did not shift and whirl with the rest.
"Ain't she the grand actor?" said Blister with delight. "The best mannered thing at the barrier ever I saw."
Then for a moment I lost the colors that had held my gaze. They were blotted out and crowded back by other colors. In that instant the wave conquered. It grew larger and larger. It was coming like the wind. But where was the blue and gold?
I was answered by a heaven-cleaving shout that changed in the same breath to a despairing groan. It was as though a giant had been stricken deep while roaring forth his battle-cry. The thousands had seen what I had missed—their hopes in an instant were gone. In the stillness that followed, a harsh whisper reached me.
"She's left! She's left!" Then an uncanny laugh. The rock had broken.