"I have no hesitancy in saying Robin Adair," he declared. "He has everything in his favor."
"I have an idea that the little brown horse with the white stockings will win."
He laughed, and a look indicative of superior judgment broke over his face.
"I feel very sure that your favorite, Queen Bess, will lose, Miss Sally," he said.
"I feel very confident that she will win," she said.
He shook his head.
"I should like to make a wager with you on that," she cried.
"A box of candy – anything you like," he replied, airily; "but I must warn you that it is not quite the correct thing to wager with a lady, especially when you are sure that she will lose."
"I'll take my chances," she replied, a strange look flashing into her excited blue eyes.
"You have not told me what the wager is to be."
For a moment the girl caught her breath and gave a lightning-like glance about her. No one was listening, no one would hear.
"You have not told me," said Jay Gardiner, gallantly, as he bent forward.
She turned and faced him, and her answer came in an almost inaudible whisper. But he heard it, though he believed he had not heard aright.
"Do I understand you to say that your hand is the wager?" he asked, surprisedly.
"Yes!" she answered.
For a moment he looked at her in the utmost astonishment. Then a laugh suffused his fair face. Surely this was the strangest wager that he had ever heard of. He was used to the jolly larks of girls; but surely this was the strangest of them all. He knew that there was little hope of Queen Bess winning the race. But he answered, with the utmost gravity:
"Very well; I accept your wager. Your hand shall be the prize, if the little mare wins."
"She is so very young – only eighteen," he said to himself, "that she never realized what she was saying. It was only a jolly, girlish prank."
If there had been in his mind the very slightest notion that Queen Bess would win, he should have refused to accept the wager. But she surely would not win; he was certain of that.
So, with an amused smile, he acquiesced in the strange compact. In the midst of the talking and laughing, the horses came cantering on to the course.
It was a beautiful sight, the thorough-bred horses with their coats shining like satin, except where the white foam had specked them, as they tossed their proud heads with eager impatience, the gay colors of their riders all flashing in the sunlight.
A cheer goes up from the grand stand, then the starter takes his place, and the half-dozen horses, after some little trouble, fall into something like a line. There is an instant of expectancy, then the flag drops, and away the horses fly around the circular race-track.
For a moment it is one great pell-mell rush. On, on, they fly, like giant grey-hounds from the leash, down the stretch of track, until they are but specks in the distance; then on they come, thundering past the grand stand at a maddening pace, with Robin Adair in the lead, General, Yellow Pete, and Black Daffy going like the wind at his heels, and Queen Bess – poor Queen Bess! – fully a score of yards behind.
A mad shout goes up for Robin Adair. He looks every inch the winner, with his eyes flashing, his nostrils dilated. Every man leans forward in breathless excitement. Even the ladies seem scarcely to breathe. Suddenly a horse stumbles, and the rider is thrown headlong. There is a moment's hush; but the horse is only an outsider, and the crowd cheer the rest encouragingly.
For a time they seem to run almost level, then most of the horses seem to show signs of the terrible strain. Robin Adair keeps steadily to the fore, with General closely at his heels. The rest begin to fall off.
Again a mad shout goes up for Robin Adair.
"No, no – General!" comes the hoarse cry from a hundred throats.
But through it all, the wiser ones notice the gallant little mare, Queen Bess, coming slowly to the front.
Some daring voice shouts:
"Queen Bess! Queen Bess!"
"She is fresh as a daisy!" mutters some one in the box adjoining Jay Gardiner's.
White to the lips, Sally Pendleton sits and watches, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.
The babble of voices is so deafening that she can not hear.
Again the gallant steeds are specks in the distance. Now they pass the curve, and are on the home-stretch, dashing swiftly to the finish.
Nearer and nearer sounds the thunder of their oncoming hoofs. Ten thousand people grow mad with excitement as they dash on.
To the great surprise of the spectators, Queen Bess is gaining steadily inch by inch, until she passes those before her, even the General, and there is but a ribbon of daylight between herself and the great Robin Adair.
The crowd goes wild with intense excitement. Nerves are thrilling as down the stretch dashes the racers almost with the rapidity of lightning.
The grand stand seems to rock with the excited shouts. One great cry rises from ten thousand throats. Queen Bess has reached the great Robin Adair's flanks, and inch by inch she is gaining on him. And the excited spectators fairly hold their breath to see which horse wins.
CHAPTER IV
Never in the history of the Lee races had there been such an exciting scene as this. Jay Gardiner's face is as white as death, as, with bated breath, he watches the two thorough-breds. Every one rises to his feet in the hope of catching a full view of the flyers.
Which will win the race – the great Robin Adair or the gallant little Queen Bess?
The mad shouts are deafening.
Suddenly they notice that Robin Adair, who has been victor in a dozen such races, begins to show signs of distress. The foam covers his dark chest, and his eyes flash uneasily. It is all that his rider can do to urge him on with whip and spur.
There is only one more furlong to cover. Robin Adair and little Queen Bess are side by side, neck to neck, both increasing their speed with every stride.
Suddenly Robin, the great Robin Adair, falters ever so slightly. The seething mass of men and women hold their breath. Then, quick as a flash, as if shot from a bow, gallant little Queen Bess passes him. A great cry breaks from the vast multitude of spectators. One instant later, and the cry has deepened into a mighty yell. Little Queen Bess, with every muscle strained, passes under the wire – a winner!
The next instant she is hidden from sight by the eager thousands who are crowding and pushing one another to catch a glimpse of the winner. Jay Gardiner stands for a moment as if dumbfounded. He is hardly able to credit the evidence of his own senses.
"Queen Bess had won!" cried the golden-haired girl by his side, and he answers a hoarse – "Yes."
The girl laughs, and the sound of that laugh lingers in his memory all the long years of his after-life.
"And I have won!" she adds, shrilly.
Again he answers, in that same hoarse monotone – "Yes!"
Before he has time even to think, Sally Pendleton turns around to her father and mother, crying triumphantly:
"Mamma – papa, Mr. Gardiner wants me to marry him. My hand is pledged to him; that is, if you are willing!"
The young man's face turned as white as it would ever be in death.
The effect of her words can better be imagined than described. Mr. Pendleton stared at his daughter as though he had not heard aright.
Mrs. Pendleton was dumbfounded. And Louise – poor Louise! – to her it seemed as if life had ended for her.
Mr. Pendleton recovered himself in an instant. He had been quite sure that