piness as this.

And yet, when the wondrous "Wednesday" came and he was actually on his
way to Epsom Downs at last ... Ah, well, Joy is elastic; Youth is a time
of many dreams, and who blames a boy for being delighted that one of
them is coming true at last?

Cleek did not, at all events. Indeed, Cleek aided and abetted him in all
his boisterous outbursts from first to last; and was quite as excited as
he when the event of the meeting--the great race for the famous Derby
Stakes--was put up at last. Indeed, he was a bit wilder, if anything,
than the boy himself when the flag fell and the whole field swept by in
one thunderous rush, with Minnow in the lead and Black Riot far and
away behind. Nor did his excitement abate when, as the whole cavalcade
swung onwards over the green turf with the yelling thousands waving and
shouting about it, Sir Henry Wilding's mare began to lessen that lead,
and foot by foot to creep up towards the head.

He shouted then--as wildly as Dollops himself, as wildly as any man
present. He jumped up on his seat and waved his hat; he thumped Dollops
on the back and cried: "She's creeping up! She's creeping up! Stick to
it, old chap, stick to it! Give her her head, you fool! She'll do it--by
God, she'll do it! Hurrah! Hurrah!" And was shouted down, and even
seized and pulled down by others whose view he obstructed, and whose
interest and excitement were as great as his.

Onwards they flew, horses and riders, the whole pounding, mixing,
ever-changing mass of them; jackets and caps of every hue flashing here
and there--now in a huddled mass, now with this one in the lead, and
again with that: a vast, ever-moving, ever-altering kaleidoscope that
was, presently, hidden entirely from the main mass of the onlookers, by
the surging crowd, the mass of drags and carriages of all sorts in the
huge square of the central enclosure, and most of all by the people who
stood up on seats and wheels and even the tops of the vehicles. Then,
for a little time, the roars came from a distance only--from those in
the enclosure who alone could see--then neared and neared and grew in
volume, as the unseen racers pounded onward and came pelting up the long
stretch toward Tattenham Corner. And by and bye they swung into view
again--still a huddled mass, still so closely packed together that the
positions of the individual horses was a matter of uncertainty--but
always the roaring sound went on and always it came nearer and