CHAPTER XXVIII
"To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus And witch the world with noble horsemanship!"--_Shakespeare_.
The onlookers behaved in the orthodox runaway-horse manner.
Women screamed, or took the opportunity to manipulate a surreptitiouspowder-puff.
Men shouted and waved their topees, or shouted and performed equestriangymnastics, and the jockeys _en masse_ cursed their masters' presence,and the more or less mythical value of their respective mounts.
Just for that one moment in which anything occurring out of yourordinary rut leaves you practically stunned into inertia.
Then things began to shape themselves, and for one unbelievable secondcaste was thrown to the soft wind which was sweeping up the last ragsof mist.
Military mingled with commerce, the I.C.S. which, written in full,means God's Anointed, looked _at_ instead of _through_ the railway;jute condescended to the tourist, and white ejaculated to kaffyolay asthey all sat gazing after the retreating form of the Devil and thepursuing shapes of one or two, who, fairly decently mounted, werepegging away stout-heartedly in a perfectly vain, but praiseworthyeffort to save Leonie from certain death.
And then a sigh of relief went up.
A bay, stretched out, was flying like the wind, hoofs thundering on thehard ground, tail streaming, as, urged by his master's heel and voice,he strove to get to the tank before the runaway.
The distance and the speed were too great, the horse and kit were notsufficiently familiar to allow the spectators to identify the one manwho seemed to have a plan in his head, and a horse under him.
The women strained their eyes in an endeavour to distinguish him, menkept theirs glued to Leonie who was riding straight and apparentlymaking no effort to check the Devil, and policemen, forgetful of theirdignity, their status, and their red turbans, hung over the rails nearthe grand-stand entrance with a riff-raff of taxi chauffeurs, pukkachauffeurs and syce.
For the first two hundred yards across the brown grass of the Maidan,Leonie thoroughly enjoyed the tearing gallop, having failed to graspthe fact that the Devil was bolting; but after having spokensoothingly, and pulled firmly without making any impression, somewhereabout the middle of the polo ground she awoke to the fact thatsomething had to be done.
"They're in it! No! missed, by Jove!"
The jockey bunched himself in an ecstasy of relief, and his mare dancedwith a fellow-electrical feeling as the Devil, wheeling sharply fromthe sparkling water in the tank, missed the lone tree by a foot; thengathering fresh impetus from the ever-nearing sound of thudding hoofs,tore towards the rails enclosing the two tracks.
They are not high, but they are fairly close together, and four in all,and a horse, blind from fear or temper, is quite as likely to let youdown at the first as at the fourth.
But Jan Cuxson saw a gleam of hope.
Surely the runaway would slacken, surely no horse could possibly takefour fences at that terrific speed; and if he did slacken, then thebay, as nimble as a cat in spite of his weight, would catch up, andsomething would be done before they dashed headlong across thetram-threaded, crowded Kidderpore Road.
Except for admiring her seat and seeming calm acceptance of herinevitable and horrible end, he had not bothered about the girl as ahuman being; but he frowned suddenly in a vague effort of recollectionwhen she stretched out her hand in a beckoning gesture for help to theman she heard racing to her rescue.
"By Jove!" he cried, and "_By_ Jove!" repeated the others behind, and"By _Jove_!" echoed the distant on-lookers as, without hesitation orclick of hoof on wood, the Devil rose to the first, the second, thethird and the fourth rail, skimming them like a bird, while the bay,just two rails behind, crashed over them with nothing to spare.
Inky words take a long time to write, but Leonie's perilous careertowards the river was merely the matter of a few cyclonic minutes,leaving the drivers of bullock and water-buffalo carts, _gharries_ andtrams no time in which to make an opening for her tempestuous passage.
"Wah! Wah!" shouted a group of natives, draped in gaily colouredshawls, who watched admiringly the woman's perfect seat, caring not an_anna_ that she might be thrown and break her neck or be crushed todeath. In fact, the halo of death encircling the woman's head lentenchantment to the sport, causing some of the more wealthy to bet uponher end.
A woman, white or brown, more or less in India of what account? thoughit were a different matter in the case of the sahib who rode inpursuit, with a mouth like a steel trap and eyes of fire.
Two women, with babes astraddle on the hip, turned to watch Leonie,then stuffing more betel nut into their already crimson mouths, movedlightly through the dust towards the bazaar. Crouched at the foot of atree, inhaling the smoke from the bowl of his rude native pipe, an oldman under the benign influence of the drug, lost in dreams, took nonotice whatever of the disturbance around him.
But the drivers, with raucous cries, twisted the tails of their kine toport or starboard, or beat them forcibly, and the tram driver, rousedfrom the lethargy engendered by the cool of the early morning, by theshouts and cries, put on his brake, bringing his tram to a stand-stilljust as, with a terrific clatter of hoofs, Leonie dashed past the frontof it with Cuxson at her heels.
There was a moment's uproar when, wishing for a better view, the driverof a tawdry _ekka_ urged his half-starved pony forward.
The bay caught the side of the pony's bleeding mouth, causing thewretched animal to rear from pain and twist sideways into a bullockcart.
In its usual leisurely way the bullock swung itself also sideways, andalmost under the bay's feet, causing him to lose a precious second, forwhich Cuxson made up by a ruthless use of his spurs, whilst beforeLeonie's eyes, quite close, through the trees, appeared the funnels andmasts of the river craft.
"Oh!" she said involuntarily, having retained no impression during hermotor drives of the road to Kidderpore; as the Devil tore with heracross the old polo ground and the old Ellenborough course, straight tothe crowded Strand Road.
And then she sighed a little sigh of relief, for the bay heavedalongside and a hand stretched for her bridle.
Side by side they clattered across the Strand towards the PrinsepsGhat, standing just as ostracised and white as the Marble Arch.
Would the two horses crash headlong into the columns, or would theDevil yield in time to the strong hand pulling on the bit?
Neither.
Terrified by the shouts of the populace, and the shrill whistling fromthe river, he raced along so close to the left side of the monumentthat Cuxson's boot scratched against the stone.
But as they crashed across the Strand and the sharp incline on theother side of the railway lines appeared, Cuxson, knowing that themoment had arrived, dropped his reins, and gripping the bay with hisknees, leant over towards Leonie as she dropped her reins, andloosening her grip on the pommel, prepared to break her neck or herback or both as she slipped from the saddle.
Then she felt an arm round her waist.
She knew intuitively her rescuer's intention, _but_----!
Would a man's left arm be strong enough to lift her across her horse'shind-quarters at the terrific speed they were going, combined with herweight?
Would he be able to hold her until his horse slackened speed, or wouldthey both overbalance and hurtle to the ground together? Would therebe time to stop the horse, or would they all be hurled into the water?
The questions had hardly flashed through her mind when she felt herselflifted and swung.
For one petrifying moment the bay, pulled savagely until blood stainedthe bit, reared with its double weight within a yard of the steepincline, then, yanked cruelly by its master, swung sideways and camedown; just as the Devil, striving at the last moment to check his wildcareer, hesitated for one half-second, then, pushed by his own terrificimpetus, slid over the incline, and turning a complete somersaultbackwards, crashed into the water.
* * * * * * * *
Leonie's scarlet mouth trembled, and her yellow-green eyes gleamed asthe man she loved pressed both her hands in his against his coat, untilthe high relief of the button was marked upon her skin, even throughher glove.
"You," she said, so softly that the one note sounded like the chime ofa temple bell.
"You!" he said, giving her arms a little savage wrench, then lettingher go as the sound of approaching hoofs heralded the arrival of thefirst of the hunt to be in at the averted death.
A score or more of natives in their vivid colours, which seem so atunewith all that has to do with love, mattered not at all; but Leonieturned and pointed casually to the Devil, enjoying his matutinal bath,as the boy flung himself from the discredited polo pony on which he haddone his best.
He seized both her hands and held them very tightly, then catchingsight of Cuxson, let them go suddenly.
"Of course!" he said, "of course you would--you lucky beggar!" Thenadded triumphantly, "But anyway, _I_ told her so!"
Leonie of the Jungle Page 29