Mr. Vernon's light chestnut was also a handsome animal, far more so than the lean gray of the Ahmednuggur Irregulars.

The ensign's nerve was largely affected by the unwonted excitement as he reined his mount alongside the others; an indistinguishable mass of white and brown humanity appeared to float before his eyes; and all he heard of the shouts and comments was a confused and distant murmuring, or rather buzzing. Mechanically he prepared for the start.

The flag dropped, and the starter scurried to one side; "The Padre"

leapt from under him and plunged away, the spectators seeming to swim past. He shook off the trance and partially recovered his self-possession. In front were Mr. Vernon's "Flying Fox", and another and darker chestnut. Aligned with him were the Ahmednuggur gray and a bay; the remaining three were slightly to the rear, for the pace was one that would soon tell.

Miss Woodburn watched with much anxiety as they came to the first fence, and began to regret that she was responsible for inducing the boy to take part in the dangerous pastime. But "The Padre" went over like a bird, and no one came to grief. The second and third obstacles were well taken by the whole field, but the leading chestnut (the horse of a comrade) fell at the fourth and was out of it. At the next--a water-jump--the Ahmednuggur gray swerved and lost ground, and a moment later the bay, who had got in front, carried away one of the hurdles--the easiest obstacle of the course. Ted was now calm enough to take all this in, and he became aware that he had only two horses to fear, "Cabul" and "Flying Fox". The black was now about a length behind, whilst the chestnut was almost as much in front of him.

More than two miles had been covered before "Cabul" began to forge slowly ahead of "The Padre", and to gain gradually on "Flying Fox", who, by his tail's convulsive twitching and his heaving flanks, was beginning to throw out signals of distress.

Even at that exciting moment the boy could not but admire the strong seat, light firm hands, and splendid horsemanship of Lieutenant Spencer.

They had approached a hedge side by side, and though "The Padre" was going quite as well as, if not even better than "Cabul", the latter seemed to glide over the obstacle and was away on the other side a good yard in front. The boy knew that the time was lost in collecting his horse for the jump, and after landing on the other side, and as he felt convinced that his mount was speedier and quicker on his legs than Spencer's, and had better shoulders for landing, he could not understand how his rival managed to fly the fences with so little decrease in his speed and collect himself and get away on the other side without a pause. And it seemed no effort!

The last jump was taken by the black a length in front of the gray, who in his turn had beaten the chestnut by nearly as much. No other horse was within thirty yards of the leader. But whereas Spencer had driven his steed speedily at this wide water-jump, and had cleared it in gallant style, "The Padre" jumped slightly short, and though he quickly pulled himself together, he was now nearly two lengths behind. Still he was going merrily and gamely, with any amount of spring and stay, and the ensign recognized despairingly that he bestrode the swifter and more clever horse, and was being beaten by his rival's horsemanship and superior judgment.

And it is now a straight run to the judge's stand. Ted fancies to his delight that "Cabul" appears somewhat done, and his rider is undoubtedly having to urge him along for the first time. But with Spencer--in striking contrast to the rider of the bay who came to grief at the solitary line of hurdles--there is no flourishing of the whip, no nervous jerking of the reins: the officer of the Guides preserves his calm and impassive demeanour, for he understands his mount. In his excitement the boy speaks to "The Padre", and that willing beast seems to comprehend and gallantly responds.

From her horse's back, on a little mound near the judge's box, Ethel Woodburn cranes forward eagerly. Yes, down the hill the gray is slowly gaining on the black!

One hundred and fifty yards away and "The Padre's" head is level with "Cabul's" tail. They see Ted for the first time touch the horse lightly with his heels, the spur pricking a handsbreadth behind the girths; a couple of quick strokes with the whip and the clever gray knows that the time has come, and they see him bound forward. Eighty yards away and Ted's knee is in line with "Cabul's" tail. The black is labouring hard, and under an ordinary rider would have given in, but Lieutenant Spencer is no ordinary rider.

Two more strides and the riders are level, and amid a roar which breaks out on every side, and which the boy only hears as a distant murmur, "The Padre" wins by a neck.

CHAPTER III

Ted does not think much of the Guides

Quite dazed and half-unconscious Ted was lifted from the saddle. As in a dream he heard the prolonged applause of his mess-mates and the shrill yells of delight raised by the swarthy men of the 193rd. Lieutenant Spencer held out his hand to the victor and looked him approvingly in the face.

"You young scoundrel!" he cheerfully exclaimed, "I congratulate you. You deserved to win."

Ted heartily returned the handshake of his brother's friend, and muttered something to the effect that the horse should be given all the credit, not the rider. So great a triumph he had never before known, yet he bore his honours modestly. Colonel Woodburn, Major Munro, Captain Markham, and other mess-mates were quickly on the spot, patting and praising both horse and rider. The thumps on the back given to Ted were rather more vigorous than those awarded to "The Padre", and the ensign had little breath wherewith to make suitable reply to the shower of congratulations. Pir Baksh, the subadar, waved his sword wildly and led the sepoys in their volleys of deafening applause.

There was one jarring note. A brother ensign who was strolling moodily past the group moved a step nearer to Ted and snarled in an undertone:

"I've dropped two hundred rupees to-day, thanks to you."

It was Harry Tynan--a tall, handsome lad with dark hair inclined to curl, and big brown eyes; the type of boy who from childhood is petted and spoilt by mothers and aunts. Unless such an one possesses an exceptionally strong character the result is fatal, and Tynan showed a weak mouth and chin.

"The Padre's" owner caught the whisper.

"More fool you, you young idiot!" Markham genially observed, as the silly youngster turned away with a muttered curse.

Miss Woodburn's congratulations were even more welcome than the praises of his comrades.

"I'm proud of my future brother," she said. "You rode just splendidly.

Oh, it was exciting! I gave up all hope at the last water-jump.... And then when you began to overhaul him down the incline! Didn't the shouting affect your nerves?"

Ted shook his head. "I don't remember hearing anything. For all I knew there might not have been a single person within miles except me and Spencer--I mean Spencer and I--Spencer and myself, I should say."

"I could hardly hold myself in," went on Ethel. "I was dancing up and down--screaming, I'm afraid."

"You were indeed, madame," interposed Jim. "You were making a most discreditable exhibition."

"Ted," exclaimed the girl, "will you marry me? I'm tired of your brother."

"That I will!" replied Ted. "To-morrow if you like. I never could imagine what you could see in that chap, you know."

"Very well, I'll abandon him to his fate. He was actually cheering on that Guide fellow during the last hundred yards."

"The brute!"

"Isn't he?"

"Who--the Guide fellow?"

With this embarrassing query Lieutenant Spencer joined the party. Ethel blushed crimson, and for once in her life was at a loss for a remark.

Jim chuckled away to himself at his sweetheart's discomfiture in most brutal fashion.

"That's right, Spencer," said he. "Come and back me up, I'm in a minority here."

Miss Woodburn recovered from her confusion. She had already been introduced by Jim to "that Guide fellow".

"I really beg your pardon, Lieutenant Spencer. We were indulging in a little inter-regimental chaff and abuse. Captain Russell had dared to applaud you rather than his brother at the final burst. And you don't understand how fond we all are of 'The Padre'. He's the regimental horse."

"Please don't apologize," Miss Woodburn. "I quite understand and sympathize with you. Indeed, I'm glad you're scorching him, for he needs it. And so he was cheering me in preference to your favourite? He must have most execrable taste."

"Thank you, Spencer!" Jim hurriedly and joyfully broke in. "Thanks!...

Be grateful, Ethel. Don't you see how very complimentary to you that remark is?"

For a few moments Miss Woodburn struggled with her amusement, but laughter mastered her, and she could not speak before Spencer had partially recovered his senses and recognized what a left-handed compliment he had paid her. The Guides lieutenant was far more confused and nervous now than at any time during the steeple-chase.

With crimson face he offered reparation.

"It's my turn to apologize now, Miss Woodburn. I think you'll forgive me, though. It's my misfortune that I'm not very intelligent."

"I couldn't dream of doing so, Lieutenant Spencer," Ethel asserted, still laughing. "You paid me out nicely, and I'm sure you did it wilfully; it was far too smart to be unintentional."

"'Pon my honour, I didn't. I'm not half sharp enough to say anything of that kind except by accident. One can't be perfect, you know, and we must take into account that Russell did show poor taste in applauding the inferior horse and rider--especially going against your opinion, though we must acknowledge his perfect taste in at least one respect."

"I must forgive you after that, Mr. Spencer, though it was rather crude," said the girl, shaking her head.

"And I say, Spencer," Jim interposed, "don't talk about 'inferior rider'. We all know, and Ted knows, that you are a far better horseman than he."

"Of course I do," the ensign heartily agreed.