Four furlongs from home Alan's horse was still going strong, showing no signs of shirking or giving way under pressure.
Bradley began to have doubts. Bandmaster traveled like a stayer, no doubt about it; still he could not quite believe he would last it out.
Rainstorm lacked one thing, a fine turn of speed to finish up with; this was where Bandmaster came in.
Colley urged his mount forward and headed his opponent. Bandmaster showed in front, and Bradley began to niggle at Rainstorm in order to keep his place. The Hunt Cup winner was traveling almost as fast as at Ascot and so great was the pace that Rainstorm felt the pressure. There seemed every possibility of this race's being as close as the first; it was astonishing how well the horses were matched. If anybody had doubts about the merits of Australian horses they were being rapidly dispelled.
There was a bigger crowd than the previous day, for the great race between The Duke and Southerly Buster roused sporting enthusiasm to a high pitch. The best patrons of racing were present, men who thoroughly enjoyed a match of this kind and were content with a fiver on the one they fancied.
The cheering began when the pair reached the stands, and was renewed again and again.
Alan was keenly interested in the result. If Bandmaster beat Rainstorm he would be delightfully surprised. He smiled as he pictured Fred Skane crowing over the doubters and pronouncing Bandmaster the best horse in the land.
Eve was anxious. She wanted Alan to win both matches; at the same time she was glad Mr. Hallam's horses showed such good form. She was quite willing to accept his excuse that they would have done better had they been thoroughly acclimatized. There was, however, little time to think over these things; all attention was concentrated on the race, which was now at the most exciting part, and the tumult at its height. The brown jacket with the blue sleeves held the lead as they came up the rise, but the black and orange hoops were close on to them, and Rainstorm's head was at Bandmaster's girth.
It was a punishing finish, but neither horse gave way—a splendid display of dogged courage and endurance, it appealed to all that was best in thousands of people witnessing it.
Bradley roused himself for a final effort; few jockeys had his strength at the end of a severe course; he had snatched races out of the fire by sheer power of endurance.