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fences and crossing a field of light ploughland we
soared over a hedge with a big drop and began to
go down the other side of the hill. Jerry was out-
paced and I was level with Mikado and the Cavalry
soldier who had been cutting out the work. As
Stephen dropped behind he said, "Go on, George;
you've got 'em stone-cold."

We were now more than three parts of the way
round, and there was a sharp turn left-handed where
we entered on the last half-mile of the course. I lost
several lengths here by taking a wide sweep round the
white flag, which Brownrigg almost touched with his
left boot. At the next fence the soldier went head
over heels, so it was just as well for me that I was a
few lengths behind him. He and his horse were still
rolling about on the ground when I landed well clear
of them. Brownrigg looked round and then went
steadily on across a level and rather wet field which
compelled me to take my last pull at Cockbird. Get-
ting on to better ground, I remembered Mr. Gaffikin's
advice, and let my horse go after him. When I had
drawn up to him it was obvious that Cockbird and
Mikado were the only ones left in it. I was alone
with the formidable Brownrigg. The difference
between us was that he was quite self-contained and I
was palpitating with excitement.

We were side by side: approaching the fourth fence
from the finish he hit his horse and went ahead; this
caused Cockbird to quicken his pace and make his
first mistake in the race by going too fast at the fence.
He hit it hard and pecked badly; Brownrigg, of
course, had steadied Mikado for the jump after the
quite legitimate little piece of strategy which so
nearly caused me to "come unstuck". Nearly, but
not quite, For after my arrival at Cockbird's ears