Something went wrong with the steering gear, the car swerved and the front wheels stuck in the ditch. The driver was shot out and Alan flung against the back of the front seat. The man was unhurt and on his feet in a few seconds. Alan swore; he could not help it. "Lost by a few seconds," he said. "I'll have her out," said the driver, who was in the car. By much display of skill and force he backed it out, fixed the steering gear, and said: "Get in, sir, we'll do it yet. Is that the course?" and he pointed to where the flags waved. "That's it," said Alan excitedly. "Is the going on the grass good?" "Yes." "Then I'll steer straight for it." The car bounded over the turf with occasional jumps. Alan held on to the seat, no chance, the race was timed for three-thirty. The horses must be going out. He hoped they would be late. Probably there were many runners, a big field, and the weighing facilities improvised for the occasion would not conduce to rapidity. Fred Skane took a final sweep over the Park through his glasses. He saw the car, guessed who it was and, calling to Will Kerridge not to go out on to the course for a minute, made a bolt to the entrance gate. The car pulled up quickly. Alan sprang out. "You, Fred, am I in time?" he said. "Just follow me," replied Fred as he ran toward the weighing room. "Get into the scales. Eleven stone," he yelled, then bolted to find the stewards. There was a hurried consultation. Major Daven consulted for a few minutes, then went to the weighing room. "God bless me--Chesney! This is a surprise," he gasped. "Can I ride Bandmaster?" asked Alan breathlessly. "Yes, of course; I'll tell 'em. They're not all out yet. God bless my soul, this is a surprise! How do you feel?" said the Major, giving out orders between gasps, sending attendants flying in all directions. "No time to change; I'll have to ride in khaki," said Alan. "And there's no better color," said the Major. "How about the weight?" said the trainer, stumbling and gasping. "All right; two pounds over weight," said the clerk of the scales. "Declare it," said Fred. "Two pounds over," shouted the Major; "up with it on the board, owner up, don't stand there gaping. Bandmaster's the horse--fly! God bless my soul, what a surprise it will be!" Alan pitched his cap in a corner. "You've spurs on, don't use them." "All right," said Alan. "And I say, mind the water jumps--they're stiff." "All right," said Alan as he was rushing out, the trainer on his heels shouting hints and instructions. "Something's causing delay," said the Baron, noticing three or four horses still in the paddock. Eve looked. "Bandmaster is still there," she said, "and Kerridge has dismounted." "There's a regular bustle round the weighing room," said Harry Morby. They saw attendants running in and out and Fred Skane hurriedly appearing, making for Bandmaster.