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Full text of "TheCompleteMemoirsOfGeorgeSherston"

(on his dumpy grey cob) was instructing us to keep
the red flags on the right and the white flags on the
left (which we already knew) I noticed Pomfret,
(on a well-bred, excitable brown) and Brownrigg
(Groplady's bright chestnut looking very compact)
already stealing forward on the side furthest from him.
When he said "Go", I went with the others; albeit
with no sense of initiative. The galloping hoofs sound-
ed strange. But Gockbird felt strong under me and he
flicked over the first fence with level and unbroken
stride; he was such a big jumper and so quick over
his fences that I had to pull him back after each one
in order to keep level with Jerry, who was going his
best pace all the way. One of the soldiers (in a top-
hat) was making the running with Brownrigg and
Pomfret close behind him. At the awkward fifth
fence (the one on a bank) Pomfrct's horse jumped
sideways and blundered as he landed; this caused
Pomfret to address him in uncomplimentary lan-
guage, and at the next obstacle (another awkward
one) he ran out to the left, taking one of the soldiers
with him. This, to my intense relief, was the last I
saw of him* I took it at a place where a hole had
been knocked in it in the previous races. The next
thing I remember was the brook, which had seemed
wide and intimidating when I was on foot and had
now attracted a small gathering of spectators. But
water jumps are deceptive things and Cockbird shot
over this one beautifully: (Stephen told me after-
wards that he'd "never seen a horse throw such an
enormous lep"). We went on up a long slope of firm
pasture-land, and I now became aware of my respon-
sibility; my arms were aching and my fingers were
numb and I found it increasingly difficult to avoid
taking the lead, for after jumping a couple more