The Rider in Khaki Part 42

"Is the going on the gra.s.s good?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll steer straight for it."

The car bounded over the turf with occasional jumps. Alan held on to the seat, no chance, the race was timed for three-thirty. The horses must be going out. He hoped they would be late. Probably there were many runners, a big field, and the weighing facilities improvised for the occasion would not conduce to rapidity.

Fred Skane took a final sweep over the Park through his gla.s.ses. He saw the car, guessed who it was and, calling to Will Kerridge not to go out on to the course for a minute, made a bolt to the entrance gate.

The car pulled up quickly. Alan sprang out.

"You, Fred, am I in time?" he said.

"Just follow me," replied Fred as he ran toward the weighing room.

"Get into the scales. Eleven stone," he yelled, then bolted to find the stewards.

There was a hurried consultation. Major Daven consulted for a few minutes, then went to the weighing room.

"G.o.d bless me--Chesney! This is a surprise," he gasped.

"Can I ride Bandmaster?" asked Alan breathlessly.

"Yes, of course; I'll tell 'em. They're not all out yet. G.o.d bless my soul, this is a surprise! How do you feel?" said the Major, giving out orders between gasps, sending attendants flying in all directions.

"No time to change; I'll have to ride in khaki," said Alan.

"And there's no better color," said the Major.

"How about the weight?" said the trainer, stumbling and gasping.

"All right; two pounds over weight," said the clerk of the scales.

"Declare it," said Fred.

"Two pounds over," shouted the Major; "up with it on the board, owner up, don't stand there gaping. Bandmaster's the horse--fly! G.o.d bless my soul, what a surprise it will be!"

Alan pitched his cap in a corner.

"You've spurs on, don't use them."

"All right," said Alan.

"And I say, mind the water jumps--they're stiff."

"All right," said Alan as he was rus.h.i.+ng out, the trainer on his heels shouting hints and instructions.

"Something's causing delay," said the Baron, noticing three or four horses still in the paddock.

Eve looked.

"Bandmaster is still there," she said, "and Kerridge has dismounted."

"There's a regular bustle round the weighing room," said Harry Morby.

They saw attendants running in and out and Fred Skane hurriedly appearing, making for Bandmaster.

A buzz of excitement rose; inquiries were made; a feeling of suspense was in the air.

A man climbed up to the number board. Eve saw him.

"A rider changed at the last minute," she said.

Then she noticed Will Kerridge's name taken out and her heart almost stopped beating. She trembled, became pale with excitement.

"Good Lord, what's up?" exclaimed Mr. Hallam. "Shall I go and find out?"

"No occasion," said Harry excitedly. "Look!"

A khaki-clad figure, a soldier in officer's uniform, much worn and travel-stained, with no cap, came tearing out of the weighing room and across the paddock to where Bandmaster stood.

"By all that's wonderful, it's Alan!" exclaimed Duncan Fraser.

"Yes, yes!" said Eve, and felt on the verge of fainting. She could hardly believe her eyes. It was Alan sure enough, marvelous. How had he got there? She quivered with the tumult of her feelings. The surprise was too much for her, the exquisite joy of seeing him again overcame her.

Alan shook hands hurriedly with Will Kerridge.

"Sorry to take the mount from you, Will," he said with a smile.

"You're welcome, Captain; I'm right glad you came in time," was the reply.

Alan mounted and rode Bandmaster on to the course.

"Who is the rider in khaki?" asked a well-known man.

"Blest if I know. He's riding Bandmaster too." He turned to look at the board.

"Well, of all the wonderful things!" he exclaimed. "It's Captain Chesney, the owner; he must have just arrived from the front in time."

CHAPTER XXVII

THE STEEPLECHASE

Alan was recognized by scores of people, deafening cheers greeted his appearance on Bandmaster. He walked the horse past the stand and saw Eve and her friends. Stopping for a moment he waved his hand. There was a flutter of handkerchiefs in response. Eve was a proud woman.

Her hero, everybody's hero, was there sitting his horse well, eager for the fray, ready to show how he could ride.