on troopers; there was also a sprinkling of sepoys in their white mufti, and some two or three hundred of the lower orders from the bazaar, camp-followers for the most part, attracted for the nonce by the news that the sahibs were going to have a new kind of race — all grave and stolid, and for the most part silent; but it is not easy to be jovial at six in the morning. Yorke, his riding-dress concealed by a long overcoat belonging to his chum, rode down on the pony of the latter, who himself trudged on foot, the horse "Devotion," led by the native groom, following, his tail cut square, his mane plaited, and covered by a regular suit of clothing on which a job-tailor had been at work for the past week seated on the floor of their veranda, the stuff having been bought from a local pedlar — the horse altogether, as Mr. Spragge observed, "looking a regular bang-up racer, and as good as he looks."
Yorke, leaving the groom to lead the horse up and down among the trees in the rear (Jerry rushing out every minute from the front to see that the operation was properly conducted), takes up his place at first in the enclosure, and leaning over the hurdle, looks up sideways at the front row of spectators in the stand. They are chiefly ladies, the gentlemen for the most part standing on the seats behind; but the one face he is in search of is not there, and he thinks with a sinking heart that the object for which he has made this venture has eluded him, when the sound of carriage-wheels is heard at the back of the stand, and Yorke sees from his vantage-ground the heads of the commissioner's mounted orderlies. The view is otherwise interrupted by people and pillars intervening; but presently there is a slight stir among the occupants of the stand, and room is made for Miss Cunningham, who takes her place in the front row beside Mrs. Polwheedle; and while greetings are exchanged with the other ladies, Yorke thinks how the latter seem to sink into utter insignificance beside this peerless creature. He notes, too, that while the appearance of the other ladies is generally suggestive of hurried rising, and further attention to the hair and person on their return home. Miss Cunningham's toilet, though perfectly simple, seems as complete and finished in its way as it might be if she were dressed for Ascot. And see, her pretty little hat, it is trimmed with blue, and there is a blue ribbon round her slender neck. Can this be mere coincidence? But while he stands wondering how his colours can have become known, the young lady looking down, recognizes and greets him with a gracious bow and smile, in which the young man thinks he can read sympathy and encouragement — encouragement for the impending event and also for the future. He feels his colour come and go, and his heart beats high as he lifts his hat and bows in reply, feeling, too, that the eyes of all the ladies in the front row are on him, and his first impulse is to make his way to the stand and express his gratitude; but how to push, his way through its occupants to the front row? and how find fitting words before so many people? Abandoning this idea, therefore, as soon as conceived, he retires to the back of the enclosure to have a final look at the grey before the saddling-time comes.
"There's young Yorke of the native infantry," observed Mrs. Polwheedle, as she noticed Miss Cunningham's bow; "he's got a horse in for the steeplechase, of all people. I shouldn't have thought he was one of the sort for that kind of thing; but these subs are a harum-scarum lot."
"Colonel Falkland says that Mr. Yorke is a very good rider, and I am sure there is nothing harum-scarum about him," replied the young lady.
"Oh no, that's just it; young Yorke always looks as if he couldn't say bo to a goose; and that's what surprised me so, his going in for this steeplechase."
"If he fails in that accomplishment it is not for want of opportunity ——"
Then the young lady stopped; for as Mrs. Polwheedle's voice was not of the lowest, she became conscious of acting as Yorke's champion before all the occupants of the stand.
The sport provided on this morning was unusually good, there being as many as four events on the card, besides the steeplechase, which was last on the list, and by general consent the most interesting of all; for, besides the exciting nature of the contest in itself, it possessed the additional attraction of there being no less than six entries, whereas for no other race had there been more than three competitors.
The particulars of the competition may be best described by copying the following extract from the card of the day: —
