The spectators' excitement became greater every moment.
"Has Naughty Boy lost?" asked Aniela, in a low, excited voice, seeing
the order in which the horses came past the stand.
"No, dear; they have still another round," I replied, pressing her
hand slightly. She did not withdraw her hand; it is true that her
whole attention was absorbed in the race. When the horses came to the
other side, Kuba was second, the white was so exhausted that he had to
fall back, and the three following riders came up to him. It was now a
race between the two, and there were only five or six lengths between
them. Suddenly a loud murmur from the stand told us that something
unusual had happened; Kuba was coming up to his adversary. The murmurs
on the stand grew into a tumult. Aniela was so carried away by
excitement that she squeezed my hand nervously, and asked every
moment, "What are they doing now?" The riders were on the left side of
the field. The red, by the help of his whip, had gained a little;
but presently Naughty Boy almost touched him with his nose. In this
furious pace they came both on a line with the stand, where we lost
sight of them again. The struggle would be over now in a few seconds.
On the stand there was a momentary silence, which suddenly changed
into loud, prolonged cheering. Many people were running along the
lines which hide the road, and at this moment we saw the red nostrils;
the horse's head, stretched out like a cord, orange and black, was
carried along as if by a hurricane.
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