The horses got away as they entered; a black jacket, white sash and cap, in front.
"Peet's luck's in, that's Bittern," said Alan; "a good start makes all the difference over this distance."
The field came down the slope at a great pace. There were fifteen horses; in the center was Robin Hood, he seemed to be hemmed in.
Tommy was savage. Not only had Robin Hood been kicked at the post, but also badly bumped and knocked out of his stride when they were going. He used forcible language to the offending jockey, who retaliated in kind.
Bittern liked to make the running, and his rider, Will Gunner, knew his mount well. He had not the slightest doubt about winning; everything was in the horse's favor. Peet Craker looked through his glasses, saw his colors a couple of lengths in front, and lowered them, quite satisfied.
At the foot of the slope Bittern still led, followed by Lantern, Topsy, and Retreat; Robin Hood seemed out of it.
"Rotten luck, Alan," said Harry. "He was knocked about at the start."
"Was he? I didn't see it," he replied.
"He's coming now!" said Ella excitedly.
"So he is!" said Eve. "He has a chance yet."