“By Jove!” he said, in one second’s hesitation, and then, remembering the ox, he added, “Come on, then, quickly,” and in another instant she was nimbly descending the ladder and he was making a way for her to get to the railing.
The party on the coach stared protestingly, and Gladys made an effort to recall her, but little heed paid Carter, as she found herself close up to the railing, toward which the colored jockey was even now advancing, in his defiant resolution to leave the field.
A dozen men were following him, with urgent beseechings and threats, to which he turned an absolutely deaf ear, until suddenly, across this clamor a soft, clear voice said, with a ring of command:
“You, Little Tom!”
The darkey turned, as if shot, and looked the speaker full in the face.
“Get up on that horse this instant!” said the same clear voice, imperiously. “Bring him here,” it added, to the man who was holding Quicksilver’s bridle, and as the restive animal was brought near, it suddenly became apparent that the human creature had been subdued.
The bewildered jockey stared full at the young lady before him, and when she said:
“Get up—quick, I say! You haven’t a second to lose.”
The resolute command was immediately obeyed, and the red-and-white-shirted jockey was on the horse and in his place, five seconds only before the order to start was given.
Only those in the immediate neighborhood had seen and heard what passed, and even they were so preoccupied by the paramount excitement of the moment, that, in their eagerness to follow the horses now flying away down the track, they forgot to think about the girl who had saved the day by some occult authority which she possessed, and so she managed to slip through the crowd almost unobserved, and to regain her seat upon the coach, followed by Stafford in a state of ecstacy over her success.