Over a
hedge--across a ditch, they race together till, as they approach the
water-jump, behold! once more "The Terror" gallops half a length
behind Sir Mortimer's gray.
The Marquis and the Viscount, racing knee and knee, have increased
their twelve yards by half, and now, as Barnabas watches, down go
their heads, in go their spurs, and away go chestnut and bay, fast
and faster, take off almost together, land fairly, and are steadied
down again to a rolling gallop.
And now, away races Carnaby, with Barnabas hard upon his left, the
pace quickens to a stretching gallop,--the earth flies beneath them.
Barnabas marks his take-off and rides for it--touches "The Terror"
with his spur and--in that moment, Carnaby's gray swerves. Barnabas
sees the danger and, clenching his teeth, swings "The Terror" aside,
just in time; who, thus balked, yet makes a brave attempt,--leaps,
is short, and goes down with a floundering splash, flinging Barnabas
clear.
Half-stunned, half-blinded, plastered with mud and ooze, Barnabas
staggers up to his feet, is aware in a dazed manner that horses are
galloping down upon him, thundering past and well-nigh over him; is
conscious also that "The Terror" is scrambling up and, even as he
gets upon his legs, has caught the reins, vaulted into the saddle,
and strikes in his spurs,--whereat "The Terror" snorts, rears and
sets off after the others.
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