'Distant Shore!' 'Neptune!'
'Neptune wins!' 'Distant Shore wins!'
These were the sounds he heard, in a dull sort of way, and he wondered what it all meant.
He kept his eyes fixed on that green jacket. Would it never leave? Why could he not shake it off? It seemed to dance before his eyes, to be first on one side and then on the other, and a white cap on top, bobbing up and down like a ball. He seemed to be flying through the air, and he knew Neptune was going at a great pace; the horse could do no better, no matter what he did or how he rode, and he sat perfectly still. Had he moved he believed he would have fallen off.
It was all for the best that he could not move, for, had he done so, Neptune might have shirked his work. There was no shirking now, and again and again the ringing cheers proclaimed that Jim Dennis's horse would win. At last, amid a perfect roar of exciting shouts, the pair passed the post almost neck and neck.
Which had won?
The yellow or the green?
Ben Madsley thought Distant Shore had just struggled home in front, but he was not sure.
As for Willie Dennis, he indistinctly recollected that the judge's box was passed, and therefore the race must be over, and with an effort he pulled Neptune up and turned him round. He did not know whether he had won or not, but the crowd did, for Neptune's number had been hoisted, and the judge's verdict was a short head.
'What a great race the lad rode,' said Adye Dauntsey. 'He's a little wonder, Jim. You must take him to Sydney. He sat as still as a mouse.'