The party from The Forest caught her enthusiasm and exuberance of spirits. Their merry laughter rang clear and joyous. Captain Morby was there, paying a flying visit from the front to see Bandmaster win. He had not met Alan since his return from his adventure. It was half an hour before the race and a bustling scene took place as the twenty-seven horses were put to rights. Riders hurried across the enclosure, stopping to speak to friends, colors just showing through the half-open coats, for the air was nipping. Most of them were gentlemen jockeys, five or six officers who had won their spurs over stiff courses and had capped this by brave actions at the front. Everybody recognized that racing, sport generally, had much to do with the wonderful heroism displayed in the war. Will Kerridge was anxious. He hoped Bandmaster would win. He wanted the ride badly, but would have stood down gladly to let Alan Chesney have the mount. Fred Skane said nothing to him about Alan's intention to arrive home in time to have the ride on his horse. He was glad he had not mentioned it now; he thought Alan was detained, that he had not sufficiently recovered from his wounds to bear the journey. A quarter of an hour more it was hopeless to expect him and yet even now Fred did not quite give up hope. He looked anxiously about, raised his glasses and fixed them on the road from Trent Park house. Nobody was coming. After all, Kerridge must ride--and win. He had given particular instructions how Bandmaster was to be handled. The riding of the horse had been discussed at the stud groom's house on several occasions. Sam was very anxious his son should win. While the bustle and excitement was at its height at Trent Park a powerful motor car was speeding along the high-road at top pace. The driver was experienced and working under pressure, he had been promised a liberal tip if he arrived in time. Behind sat Alan, endeavoring to restrain his feelings and keep quiet. From time to time he looked at his watch and replaced it in his pocket with an impatient movement. The car stopped with a jerk. The driver was out in a moment. Alan followed. What was wrong? The tool box was relied upon. The man knew his work. In a quarter of an hour the car moved on, but precious time had been lost. "We'll do it all right," said the driver. Alan doubted, but held his peace. It would be a terrible disappointment to arrive too late. He must keep as calm as possible, excitement was bad for him, his nerve had been severely tried. The landscape became more familiar with each mile passed. He was lucky to be home again. He gave a few thoughts to his recent adventures and was thankful he had pulled through. The Park appeared in the distance. A glance at the watch showed it would be "neck or nothing," he might just do it.