"The mile in 1:42," chirped Langdon. "That's movin', if you like,
considerin' the track, the condition of the horses, an' that they're
runnin' under a double wrap. Now we'll see a ding-dong finish, if the
Black doesn't show a streak of yellow. Dutchy's got him," he added, as
through his glasses he saw them swing into the straight, neck and neck.
"Clever Mr. Westlev!" for Diablo's rider, having the rail and the lead,
had bored out slightly on the turn, so as not to cramp the uncertain
horse he rode, and carried The Dutchman wide.
Up the straight they came, the boys helping their mounts with leg and
arm; the Black holding his own with a dogged persistence that quite
upset Langdon's prognostication of cowardice.
To the watchers it was as exciting as a stake race. The stamina that
Langdon had said would stand The Dutchman in good stead over the mile
and a half Handicap course now showed itself. First he was level with
the Black, then gradually, stride by stride, he drew away from Diablo,
and finished a short length in front.
"A great trial," cried the Trainer, gleefully, holding out his watch for
Crane's inspection. "See that!" pointing to the hand he had stopped as
the Bay's brown nozzle flashed by the post; "two-nine on this course!
Anything that beats that pair, fit and well, a mile and a quarter on a
fast track'll have to make it in two-five, an' that's the record.
Pages:
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235