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."