“To-hoo, to-hoo, to-hoo!” cried the directors of the Owl, but the Knight and his Squire pulled away, and the Owl was left astern, and very soon the Green Dragon was overtaken. They, of course, were assailed with the most horrible hisses, and roars, and strange noises of all sorts; but these did not daunt the Knight and his Squire, who went bravely on.
“Excelsior! excelsior! Hurra! hurra!” shouted Ernest and Ellis, as their car took the lead. Gradually, but surely, it increased its distance from the rest. Monsieur Malin did his best to manoeuvre his kites; so did Lemon and the rest; but they could not manage to overtake the Knight and his Squire, though they hissed, and roared, and shouted with merry peals of laughter between the intervals, calling them to stop, and not go ahead so fast.
“Old Hobson did not deceive us,” observed Ellis; “really this carriage goes along capitally.”
“He has done us justice, certainly,” answered Ernest. “But remember, Ellis, our success is entirely owing to your talent and judgment. You think too little of yourself. Now, hurrah! we shall soon be at the winning-post if the wind holds.”
Never were there more merry or noisy racers; except, perhaps, in a donkey race, when the winner is the donkey which comes in last.
“Very easy to win that sort of race,” some one will say.
Not at all, though.
In ordinary races, each jockey wishes the horse he rides to win; but, in donkey races,—which I hold to be superior to all others, whether at Goodwood, or Ascot, or Epsom,—each jockey rides his opponent’s donkey, so each is anxious to get in before the other, and, if possible, to leave his own behind.
The wind blew fair; the kites drew capitally; the Green Dragon was, after all, not very far behind the Knight and Squire; and the Owl came too-hooing, close upon the Dragon’s tail; while the General Officer seemed in a great hurry to catch the Owl, and kept singing out “Halt! halt! right-about-face,” and other expressions evidently from a somewhat scanty vocabulary of military terms. The rest of the racers came up pretty thickly one after the other.
As they reached the winning-post, where one of the masters stood ready to mark the time of their arrival, there was a general shout for Blackall and his fat boy.