"Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah!"
The cry came again in three loud, victorious cheers.
And what caused it? Why this sudden change from despondency to joyful hope of victory?
Rainstorm, after a prodigious effort on Bradley's part, drew level with Bandmaster, got his head in front, kept it there, and the judge's box was only a few yards away. A wonderful bit of riding, a great and gallant effort on the part of a good horse.
Tommy almost yelled as he drove Bandmaster along; to be defeated after all, no, he couldn't stand that. He never rode a better race and he had a good horse under him.
The last effort made by Rainstorm seemed likely to carry him first past the post, and Bernard Hallam was sure of winning. Bandmaster, however, would not be denied, the horse divined there was danger of losing; being full of courage he resented this and put forth his strength and speed to stave off defeat. How he did it Colley could not tell, but by some almost magical power he drew level with Rainstorm again and the desperate struggle continued.
The best thoroughbred never knows when he is beaten; so it was in the case of Bandmaster, who hung on to his opponent with bulldog tenacity. Bernard Hallam hardly believed it possible that Alan's horse had again got on terms with Rainstorm. The angle was deceiving and his colors still appeared to be in front; so thought hundreds of others.
For a brief moment the eyes of the jockeys met; each saw grim determination there, then they looked ahead and the judge's box loomed up clear and close.
The finish was thrilling. As they flashed past the post the question was asked, "What's won?" and nobody could tell.
"Close as The Duke's race," said one.