The duke put in an appearance five minutes before the hour, upon a bay gelding, and attended by Lewis and Sir John Brooke, both mounted.  As a most particular evidence of the detestation in which Chartersea was held, he could find nothing in common with such notorious rakes as March and Sandwich.  And it fell to me to champion these.  After some discussion between Fox and Captain Lewis, March was chosen umpire.  His Lordship took his post in the middle of the Row, drew forth an enamelled repeater from his waistcoat, and mouthed out the conditions of the match,—­the terms, as he said, being private.

“Are you ready, Mr. Carvel?” he asked.

“I am, my Lord,” I answered.  The bells were pealing noon.

“Then mount, sir,” said he.

The voices of the people dropped to a hum that brought to mind the long forgotten sound of the bees swarming in the garden by the Chesapeake.  My breath began to come quickly.  Through the sunny haze I saw the cows and deer grazing by the Serpentine, and out of the back of my eye handkerchiefs floated from the carriages banked at the gate.  They took the blanket off the stallion.  Stall-fed, and excited by the crowd, he looked brutal indeed.  The faithful Banks, in a new suit of the Carvel livery, held the stirrup, and whispered a husky “God keep you, sir!” Suddenly I was up.  The murmur was hushed, and the Park became still as a peaceful farm in Devonshire.  The grooms let go of the stallion’s head.

He stood trembling like the throes of death.  I gripped my knees as Captain Daniel had taught me, years ago, when some invisible force impelled me to look aside.  From between the broad and hunching shoulders of Chartersea I met such a venomous stare as a cattle-fish might use to freeze his prey.  Cattle—­fish!  The word kept running over my tongue.  I thought of the snaky arms that had already caught Mr. Marmaduke, and were soon, perhaps, to entangle Dorothy.  She had begged me not to ride, and I was risking a life which might save hers.

The wind rushing in my ears and beating against my face awoke me all at once.  The trees ran madly past, and the water at my right was a silver blur.  The beast beneath me snorted as he rose and fell.  Fainter and fainter dropped the clamour behind me, which had risen as I started, and the leaps grew longer and longer.  Then my head was cleared like a steamed window-pane in a cold blast.  I saw the road curve in front of me, I put all my strength into the curb, and heeling at a fearful angle was swept into the busy Kensington Road.  For the first time I knew what it was to fear a horse.  The stallion’s neck was stretched, his shoes rang on the cobbles, and my eyes were fixed on a narrow space between carriages coming together.  In a flash I understood why the duke had insisted upon Hyde Park, and that nerved me some.  I saw the frightened coachmen pulling their horses this way and that, I heard the cries of the foot-passengers, and then I was through, I know