Cautious Fred May departed from his usual custom of having "a tenner on" and invested fifty, and had done the same for Ben Sprig, who was not supposed to indulge in such iniquitous practices, for fear of the far-reaching arm of the stewards of the Jockey Club. Ben was a cautious man, and could conscientiously say he had never made a wager in his life—it was always done for him.
Great was the excitement as the horses went on to the course. Vulture, wearing the stars and stripes of his American owner, was first out, his jockey sitting crouched on his withers—an ugly sight, but often effective. Then came the handsome Coralie, in purple and scarlet, followed by Avenger's yellow and red cap, with Decoy Duck and Mermaid close behind.
"There's only five of 'em," said one spectator. "Where's the other? What is it?"
"The Saint, of course; Ben Sprig's up, he's always last out."
The Saint cantered slowly down as the others galloped past, and Ben, whipping him round, followed in the rear before half the onlookers were aware the colt had come out of the paddock.
Away they went to the famous Derby starting-post. Here Vulture showed his scant respect for decorum by lashing out all round, and in a final flourish tried to dash through the tapes, but did not succeed.
After a quarter of an hour wasted by these vagaries on the part of the favourite, the half-dozen started on their journey.
Coralie dashed off with the lead, followed by Vulture and Avenger, with the other three close up. It was evident it was to be a race from start to finish between the lot. They disappeared from view, and as they came in sight again, the mare still led, and the horses ran wide. The half-dozen were all on terms with each other. Tattenham Corner was reached and the crowd on the new stand cheered wildly as they swept past. It was here that Ben Sprig always looked out for a chance of gaining a few lengths. He wanted them more than ever on this occasion, and meant getting them if possible. He hugged the rails, and kept the Saint well in hand. He lost no ground but he gained none, as they were all adopting similar tactics, and none of the horses ran wide. The half-dozen seemed dangerously heaped together as they rounded the bend, and the crowd on that part of the course anticipated a spill, but happily it did not occur. Coralie led down the hill, the purple and gold glittering and shining royally in the sunlight.
The party in the Squire's box were unusually excited, which was not to be wondered at. Fred May was invited to join them, and he was more anxious than he had ever been before over the result of a race.
He had said he "feared nothing," with the Saint, and meant it. If he had a dread of one, it was Vulture, for he knew him to be a great horse, despite his temper.