"Well lepped!" roared the multitude, as the horses topped a wall.
"Capital jumpers both," said the sly-looking little man; "the horse for my money. Will nobody bet?" he roared out. But all were too eager to attend to him.
Fortescue is in front, and going at a good rate across some grass. The first brook is now approached, and the Captain in his turn, leads at a strong pace. All are anxiously looking to see how Mad Moll will like it, for she is twisting her head from side to side. Fortescue has taken a pull at Screwdriver, who is some six lengths behind.
"Hang me if she means jumping!" said Bradon, as he saw the mare's spiral movements.
But he was wrong: a resolute man and a good one was on her back. She jumped the brook, but in bad style, her hind legs dropped in, and as she just righted herself, Fortescue's crimson jacket flashed in the air and cleared it splendidly, amidst the shouts of hundreds.
"Splendidly jumped!" said Lord Plunger. "Fortescue is a fine horseman, Bradon, and is riding the horse patiently and well."
"He is," was the quiet reply.
All eyes are now directed to the wall, which the horses are rapidly approaching. Fortescue is seen to lead at it, and the old horse clears it at a bound, as did the mare.
"It's all up," said Bradon, as he closes his glasses; "Fortescue will win in a canter."
"The Captain's down!" screamed a host of voices, as he and the mare came to grief at the second water-jump.