Mackay's jockey pushed his mount and ran into third place, behind Jack and Isaac. They were all in the straight now, thirty-one runners, and the centre lot, numbering about a score, were all of a heap. The jackets looked bunched together, a many-hued mass of colour.
Barellan lost his position on the rails as they rounded the bend. He was not forced out but ran wide. Nicholl, taken by surprise at this move, thought it must be his leg pained him, and he wanted more room. He grew anxious. There was a slight faltering on Barellan's part. He must be nursed carefully or he might break down, and nursing at this critical point, when every horse with a chance was making a run, spelt defeat, being left behind. As it was Barellan fell back when he ought to have come into the front rank.
Glen Leigh's hand shook as he held his glasses. The sky-blue jacket was right away at the end of the middle division. Barellan's chance looked forlorn. His hopes were shattered; the thousands vanished into thin air; it was what he might have expected. How could he win with only a sovereign invested? It was absurd on the face of it. He was foolish to buoy himself with false hopes. He had raised a mirage in which he saw happiness and full content. Now it vanished and would never appear again.
"It is all up," he muttered. "I was a fool to think I could win such a sum."
"Hang it all, where's that beastly blue jacket got to?" said Bill.
"Right away back," returned Jim. "We're done. I'm sorry for Glen."
It was with mingled feelings Bellshaw saw Barellan fall back; he wanted to win a Melbourne Cup, at the same time he wished Leigh to lose his sweep money. He hardly knew which feeling was the stronger. If Barellan were beaten he would have the satisfaction of knowing Leigh had been done out of thousands and there was a chance that he, Bellshaw, might win the Cup another time.
Ivor Hadwin guessed why Barellan ran wide and lost his place at the bend. It was the strain on his bound foot which caused it; he ran out to ease it. Would he regain his position? He doubted it, but knew the horse was one of the gamest, and at the end of two miles he went as fast as the average horse at the end of half the distance, so he hoped for the best as he fixed his glasses on the sky-blue jacket.
Jack shot his bolt. He had done well, and was not disgraced, but the pace and the distance proved too much for him. Isaac took his place, the Derby winner coming along in great style. His numerous admirers and supporters were on good terms with themselves. Roland came with a rattle and ran into third place behind Isaac and Out Back, who made a terrific run from the bend. A large field of horses in the straight, at the finishing struggle for a Melbourne Cup, is one of the most exciting scenes in the racing world; it rouses the lethargic to some sort of enthusiasm, and a lover of the great game almost goes frantic over it. From the moment the horses race in desperate earnest, when the bend is cleared, the pent-up excitement continues until the winning post is passed.
Glen Leigh, with a matter of twenty-five thousand at issue, looked on wonderingly; even the melancholy fact that Barellan was so far back did not obliterate from view the grand sight he witnessed. As he looked at the various horses, one by one, from Isaac in the lead, his rider's pink jacket and white cap standing out alone, he gave a gasp of surprise. What caused it?