The riders were all mounted now, and taking, some of them, the preliminary canter that is supposed to dissipate stiffness, and then the glistening line of gaily attired horsemen marshalled itself for the start. To the last moment Captain Prodgers, on foot, kept close to Jasper’s stirrup. ‘There’s the bell!’ cried Norah Creina’s owner at last. ‘Now bend your ear down, dear boy, and mark what I say.’
And as Jasper stooped his head to listen, the other captain whispered to him cautiously but with emphasis. ‘Only if you’re hard pressed—but she may win without that,’ added Prodgers more loudly.
Jasper’s suddenly compressed lips, arching brows, and dilated eyes told that the communication had taken even him by surprise.
‘The curb-rein, eh?’ he said hoarsely.
‘Yes; but only as a last expedient. Leave it slack as long as you can, and use the snaffle only; it’s as strong as a cable,’ called out Prodgers; and Jasper nodded, and cantered up to take his place among the rest.
A waving to and fro of the many-coloured line, the dropping of a flag, a roar from the rabble, and they were off. It was like the effect produced by some gigantic rocket bursting into a galaxy of variously tinted spangles, pink, green, blue, and orange. Then most of these colours seemed to gather themselves together in a group, while Jasper’s yellow jacket and black cap, and Captain Hanger’s cherry colour and white, crept clear of the crowd.
‘The Smasher’s third!’
‘He’s second now. Green’s in front.’
‘Ah! the captain’s a deal too wise to be first, so long as Green will make running for him.’
‘Yes, but look at the ugly long-backed Irish mare! The Smasher can’t shake her off, straight as he goes.’