Grey Weather's flank and the shift of weight forced the horse to
disengage and slew away from the path.
Michael went down on his shoulder into the sand and rolled with his
knees drawn up against his stomach.
'That's for you!' Dirk yelled in defiance as he went up the bank and
out into the open veld again. Behind him in the riverbed Michael
staggered to his feet, his wet clothing coated white with sand, and ran
after Grey Weather who was trotting back towards the water with the
saddle hanging under his chest.
'The dirty little swine. My God, if only Sean knew!' Michael caught
the horse before it started to drink, wrestled the saddle on to his
back again and clinched the girth.
'Now, I can't let him win! ' He Jumped up on to Grey Weather and
booted him towards the bank 'I can't let him win.'
Two hundred yards ahead Dirks shirt was a white blob against the brown
grass. As he rounded the dip-tank and pointed Sun Dancer's head at the
ridge for the last leg, one of the stewards shouted: 'What happened to
Michael?'
'He fell in the river,' Dirk called back. 'He's finished!'
And his voice rang with triumph.
'He's leading-Dirk's leading! ' Sean stood on the Rolls with his
glasses trained on the clump of gum-trees, and now he was the first to
spot the tiny figure of the horseman as it showed on the crest of the
escarpment.
'Where's Michael?' Ruth asked.
'He can't be far behind,' Sean muttered and waited anxiOusly for him to
appear. He had fretted while he watched Dirk's reckless ascent of the
slope, and cursed him loudly for his brutal treatment of Sun Dancer.
Then he had entreated him to get a bOOdY move on during the run along
the ridge with Michael gaining steadily on him. When the two horsemen
had veered away from the skyline to cross the Baboon Stroom they had
disappeared from view and this was the first glimpse the spectators had
received of either competitor since that moment.
'The little idiot's riding too wide. I told him to cut the edge of the
swamp-not ride round it altogether. ' 'Where's Michael?' Ruth
repeated Sean swung the glasses back and scanned the crest with the
first twinges of concern.
'Not showing yet-he must have run into trouble.'
'Do you think he's all right? Has he been hurt?'
'How should I know?' Sean's anxiety made him irritable, but
immediately he was penitent and encircled Ruth's waist with his arm.
'He can look after himself, that one. No sense fussing about him.'
Dirk was well down the slope now, leaving a thin trail of dust, for Sun
Dancer skidded on her haunches most of the way,
'Still no sign of Michael?' Ruth moved restlessly against him.
'No. Not yet,' Sean grunted. 'Dirk can afford to miss the swamp-he's
leading by a quarter of a mile.'
Suddenly a sigh of relief moved the crowd like a gust of wind through a
field of wheat.
'There he is!'
