Right Royal Part 9

And as men in Wisconsin driving cars in the snow b.u.t.t against its impulsion and face to the blow, Tossing snow from their bonnets as a ship tosses foam, So the Friends tossed the Wantings as they brought their friends home.

Now they charged the last hurdle that led to the Straight, Charles longing to ride, though his spirit said "Wait."

He came to his horses as they came to the leap, Eight hard-driven horses, eight men breathing deep.

On the left, as he leaped it, a flashing of brown Kicking white on the gra.s.s, showed that Thankful was down; Then a glance right and left showed, that barring all flukes, It was Soyland's, Sir Lopez', or Peterkinooks'.

For Stormalong blundered and dwelt as he landed, Counter Vair's man was beaten and Monkery stranded.

As he reached to Red Ember the man on the red Cried, "Lord, Charlie Cothill, I thought you were dead!"

He pa.s.sed the Red Ember, he came to the flank Of Peterkinooks, whom he reached and then sank.

There were only two others, going level alone, First the spotted cream jacket, then the blue, white and roan.

Up the street of green race-course they strained for the prize, While the stands blurred with waving and the air shook with cries: "Now, Sir Lopez!" "Come, Soyland!" "Now, Sir Lopez! Now, now!"

Then Charles judged his second, but he could not tell how.

But a glory of sureness leaped from horse into man, And the man said, "Now, beauty," and the horse said, "I can."

And the long weary Royal made an effort the more, Though his heart thumped like drum-beats as he went to the fore.

Neck and neck went Sir Lopez and Soyland together, Soyland first, a short head, with his neck all in lather; Both were ridden their hardest, both were doing their best, Right Royal reached Soyland and came to his chest.

There Soyland's man saw him with the heel of his eye, A horse with an effort that could beat him or tie; Then he glanced at Sir Lopez, and he bit through his lip, And he drove in his spurs and he took up his whip.

There he lashed the game Soyland who had given his all, And he gave three strides more, and then failed at the call, And he dropped behind Royal like a leaf in a tide: Then Sir Lopez and Royal ran on side by side.

There they looked at each other, and they rode, and were grim; Charles thought, "That's Sir Lopez. I shall never beat him."

All the yells for Sir Lopez seemed to darken the air, They were rushing past Emmy and the White Post was there.

He drew to Sir Lopez; but Sir Lopez drew clear; Right Royal clung to him and crept to his ear.

Then the man on Sir Lopez judged the moment had come For the last ounce of effort that would bring his horse home.

So he picked up his whip for three swift slashing blows, And Sir Lopez drew clear, but Right Royal stuck close.

Charles sat still as stone, for he dared not to stir-- There was that in Right Royal that needed no spur.

In the trembling of an instant power leaped up within, Royal's pride of high spirit not to let the bay win.

Up he went, past his withers, past his neck, to his head, With Sir Lopez' man lashing, Charles still, seeing red.

So they rushed for one second, then Sir Lopez shot out: Charles thought, "There, he's done me, without any doubt.

O come now, Right Royal!"

And Sir Lopez changed feet And his ears went back level; Sir Lopez was beat.

Right Royal went past him, half an inch, half a head, Half a neck, he was leading, for an instant he led; Then a hooped black and coral flew up like a shot, With a lightning-like effort from little Gavotte.

The little bright mare, made of nerves and steel springs, Shot level beside him, shot ahead as with wings.

Charles felt his horse quicken, felt the desperate beat Of the blood in his body from his knees to his feet.

Three terrible strides brought him up to the mare, Then they rushed to wild shouting through a whirl of blown air; Then Gavotte died to nothing; Soyland came once again Till his muzzle just reached to the knot on his rein.

Then a whirl of urged horses thundered up, whipped and blown, Soyland, Peterkinooks, and Red Ember the roan.

For an instant they challenged, then they drooped and were done; Then the White Post shot backwards, Right Royal had won.

Won a half length from Soyland, Red Ember close third; Fourth, Peterkinooks; fifth, Gavotte harshly spurred; Sixth, Sir Lopez, whose rider said "Just at the Straight He swerved at the hurdle and twisted a plate."

Then the numbers went up; then John Harding appeared To lead in the Winner while the bookmakers cheered.

Then the riders weighed-in, and the meeting was over, And bright Emmy Crowthorne could go with her lover.

For the bets on Right Royal which Cothill had made The taker defaulted, they never were paid; The taker went West, whence he sent Charles's bride Silver bit-cups and beadwork on antelope hide.

Charles married his lady, but he rode no more races; He lives on the Downland on the blown gra.s.sy places, Where he and Right Royal can canter for hours On the flock bitten turf full of tiny blue flowers.

There the Roman pitcht camp, there the Saxon kept sheep, There he lives out this Living that no man can keep, That is manful but a moment before it must pa.s.s, Like the stars sweeping westward, like the wind on the gra.s.s.

THE END.