"They're off!" it
cried, and leaned forward expectant.
The horses came so fast. To Carter their conduct seemed outrageous.
It was incredible that in so short a time, at a pace so reckless,
they would decide a question of such moment. They came bunched
together, shifting and changing, with, through the dust, flashes of
blue and gold and scarlet. A jacket of yellow shot out of the dust
and showed in front; a jacket of crimson followed. So they were at
the half; so they were at the three-quarters.
The good-natured crowd began to sway, to grumble and murmur, then
to shout in sharp staccato.
"Can you see him?" begged Dolly.
"No," said Carter. "You don't see him until they reach the
stretch."
One could hear their hoofs, could see the crimson jockey draw his
whip. At the sight, for he rode the favorite, the crowd gave a
great gasp of concern.
"Oh, you Gold Heels!" it implored.
Under the whip, Gold Heels drew even with the yellow jacket; stride
by stride, they fought it out alone.
"Gold Heels!" cried the crowd.
Behind them, in a curtain of dust, pounded the field. It charged in
a flying wedge, like a troop of cavalry. Dolly, searching for a
green jacket, saw, instead, a rainbow wave of color that, as it
rose and fell, sprang toward her in great leaps, swallowing the
track.
"Gold Heels!" yelled the crowd.
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