They saw the danger that the riders had forgot.
“Come on! Come on!” they shouted.
Old Robin was away down the track, waving like mad. Suddenly the rider of the second horse saw his error. The rush of a horse closing up on him caught his ear. He looked around to see a big brown horse with a white blaze in the forehead, that he had not seen since the start, right at his quarter, about to slip between him and the fence. He had just time to draw in to the fence, and for a moment there was danger of the two horses coming down together.
At the sight old Robin gave a cry.
“Look at him! Runnin' my hoss in de fence! Cut him down! Cut him down!”
But the brown's rider pulled his horse around, came by on the outside, and drew up to the flank of the first horse. He was gaining so fast that the crowd burst into shouts, some cheering on the leader, some the great brown which had made such a race.
The boxes were a babel. Everyone was on his feet.
“The yellow 's gaining!”
“No; the blue 's safe.”
“Orange may get it,” said Colonel Ashland. “He 's the best horse, and well ridden.”