aising myself on
tiptoe, I swept the whole field with my eyes, and saw the jockeys
drawing near the curve of the other side. Seen from this distance,
they looked like bright-colored beetles flying through the air; the
motion appeared slow, and the throwing out of the horses' fore and
hind legs almost mechanical. But in spite of the apparent slowness,
they cleared the ground very swiftly.

The order of the riders was changed again. The white was still
leading, followed by the red; but our Kuba was third now. The others
remained behind, and the distance between them grew wider every
moment. Naughty Boy was evidently not the worst among them. For a
moment I lost sight of him, and presently saw him again as they passed
us. The red was close upon the white, and Kuba gaining ground. I now
observed for the first time that the white would have no chance, as
the horse's flanks shone with moisture, as if water had been poured
over him. It was clear the race would lie between the red and orange
and black. At the worst, Naughty Boy would be second, and the defeat
not so complete. What inspired me with confidence was the horse's
pace; he threw out his legs so evenly, as if he performed a daily
task. The spectators' excitement became greater every moment.

"Has Naughty Boy lost?" asked Aniela, in a low, excited voice, seeing
the order in which the horses came past the stand.

"No, dear; they have still another round," I replied, pressing her
hand slightly. She did not withdraw her hand; it is true that her
whole attention was absorbed in the race. When the horses came to the
other side, Kuba was second, the white was so exhausted that he had to
fall back, and the three following riders came up to him. It was now a
race between the two, and there were only five or six lengths between
them. Suddenly a loud murmur from the stand told us that something
unusual had happened; Kuba was coming up to his adversary. The murmurs
on the stand grew into a tumult. Aniela was so carried away by
excitement that she squeezed my hand nervously, and asked every
moment, "What are they doing now?" The riders were on the left side of
the field. The red, by the help of his whip, had gained a little;
but presently Naughty Boy almost touched him with his nose. In this
furious pace they came both on a line with the stand, where we lost
sight of them again. The struggle would be over now in a few seconds.
On the stand there was a momentary silence, which su