It proved, however, not to be King Lightfoot's lucky day. The horses
started at intervals, according to their performances or merit, Poddy
being the first to move, the Melbourne horse the last. King Lightfoot,
however, obstinately refused to trot, whereas Poddy revealed unexpected
powers, flinging his long legs abroad in a whirlwind fashion, and
pounding along doggedly, with his long nose outstretched as if hoping
to get it past the winning-post as soon as possible. No other horse came
near him; his initial lead was never lessened, and he plugged doggedly
to victory, while the crowd roared with laughter, and out in the timber
King Lightfoot's rider wrestled with his steed in vain. Later, his
prejudice against trotting in the bush removed by stern measures, King
Lightfoot flashed up the track like a meteor, with his furious rider
determined to show something of what his steed could do. By that time
Poddy was once more unsaddled, and was standing under a tree with his
weary nose drooping earthwards, so that the crowd merely yelled with
laughter anew, while the stewards unfeelingly requested the Melbourne
man to get off the track.
"Oh, isn't it hot!" Norah fanned herself with a bunch of gum leaves, and
cast an anxious look at Tommy.
It was breathlessly hot. Not a hint of air stirred among the trees or
moved the long dry grass that covered the paddock--now showing many
depressions, where tired people or horses had lain down to rest.
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