Chapter XVIII

For a moment there was silence, as if the crowd could not grasp the import of the amazing feat it witnessed; as if senses had not yet registered results in human brains. Then a great shout arose, gathering force as it swept along. They stamped, they cheered, they yelled, they waved wild, excited hands with handkerchiefs, umbrellas, canes, anything that was in them. They went mad and prolonged the sound until it was deafening. And there did not seem to be one in that whole crowd who remembered that the man for whom they were shouting had been for years despised by them all.

No one noticed Jean, with her face wreathed in smiles, sparkling with tears, and her heart beating wildly with joy. She stood on her railed platform, one hand upon her breast to still its excitement, the other hand wiping away her foolish tears which she hoped to get rid of before anybody had time to notice them. It was all so wonderful, so beautiful to her to have her lover recognized in this way. To be sure, it was only an athletic feat, no recognition of his sterling worth the crowd were giving him in this ovation. She was not deceived. She knew it did not mean any change of their relations; no difference in the circumstances that divided them; but it was something great and beautiful to her to have even his riding recognized thus enthusiastically.

The cheering continued in round after round for several minutes.

Holt had dismounted, halting his horse for a moment, and stood facing the shouting mob, reluctant, yet as if it were something that had to be performed in order to stop their noise. Then with a slight, dignified bow he turned away, and walked toward the fallen rider.

Already a doctor had been called and a crowd was gathering. Holt dispersed them with a wave of his hand, and kneeling beside the injured man, began ministering to him with skilful, tender hand, regardless of the shouting of the throng who cheered this new action yet more madly.

A delegation came in hot haste to bring the hero to the judges' stand where Jean, with shining eyes and excited, happy face, stood waiting with the wreath in her hand to crown him, but he paid not the slightest attention to them. Instead he raised a silver whistle to his lips and blew a keen, sweet blast, that even in their excitement startled the crowd and made them remember the tales connected with that whistle and the deeds it had summoned men to do.

Two men jumped down instantly from the front seat of the grandstand and were at his side before the echo of the whistle had died away. Jean saw them and knew them for the men who had ridden out of the woods the day that Scathlin attacked her. They were his special bodyguard, his faithful, tried and true. He sent them off with a word, and in a moment they were back with a hastily improvised stretcher and, lifting the injured man from the ground, bore him away to the tent that had been set up for the use of the ladies. Holt would have followed but for the detaining committee, who laid hands upon him now and insisted eagerly, compellingly, that he was holding up the whole performance and he had no right to spoil the day and keep the lady waiting. Even then Holt might have resisted had they not made mention of the lady, and he looked up and caught her eye and wistful smile--for he had no mind to be further in the public eye--he had ridden for Jean, but he wanted not their favors. He took off his hat to her and came forward, and the action touched off the crowd again into a hoarser cry of excitement than before. Someone, madder than the rest, even ventured to bring his name into the cry: "Holt! Holt! Holt! _Hurrah!_"

Holt lifted up his head proudly at that and went forward, not as a man goes who is ashamed before his fellow men. His bearing was of one who dares to face others, a "gentleman, unafraid." The shout died down in hushed surprise, and then rose on a higher wave that had in it something of the honor and respect his bearing had demanded. And so he came and knelt before her.

In all that wild, excited company only Eleanor Harrington sat unmoved.

"What are they shouting again for?" she asked her husband impatiently. "Isn't this thing almost over? I'm tired."

"They are calling Holt to come to the stand and receive the prize," said Harrington, under his breath, as if it were a bitter thing for him to see.

"How annoying!" said Eleanor, rising to look. "And I suppose Jean will have to present it. If I had foreseen any such thing as this I would have forbidden her to take such a prominent position. I think they have made altogether too much fuss over that creature already. It was an _impertinence_ in him to come to-day and he knew it. He oughtn't to be encouraged. I wonder you didn't take steps to have him put out at the start, James. But, James! There is one thing, Jean _must not_ ride around the track with him! I simply _will not have it_! You must go down there quickly and tell her not to. _Forbid_ it! Tell her to say she is sick or anything, only she must not ride with him. Quick! Go, James! or it will be too late! She won't have sense enough herself. It will be just like her to think she must, she is so afraid of hurting people's feelings. See, she is standing up with the wreath in her hands. Why don't you go?"

"Hush!" said Harrington, drawing his wife down into her seat again and speaking in a low tone: "Hush! Somebody will hear you. Don't you see she's got to go now? Don't you understand that public opinion will demand it? She'd be a fool to turn back now, she must go the whole show. Besides, I can't afford to get his ill-will, and if she didn't go with him Holt would know I had prevented her."

"You can't _afford_!" said his wife angrily. "You can't afford!" and she raised her voice in astonishment and dismay. "What do you mean? I thought you told me only a few days ago that you had him where he couldn't do you any more harm?"

"Hush, Eleanor, haven't you any sense at all? This is no place to discuss business matters. Don't say another word. Things have changed. I had a message from Scathlin. It's all up! Don't mention the matter to Jean, let her ride with him if she likes. I've got to make friends with him somehow or I'm in a bad hole."

Eleanor's face would have been a sight for the neighbors if they had not been too busy shouting to notice.

"Well, I think things have come to a pretty pass if my sister's reputation has to be sacrificed for business," she retorted.

The white, furious look her husband gave her silenced her, however, and she sat back struggling to master her own feelings and understand what her husband had meant.

Dazed and indignant she beheld what was going on at the judges' stand.

Jasper Holt was kneeling almost reverently before the girl whom he had twice saved from death, his bright head bowed, and she, with her eyes all starry bright and a little pink flush stealing into her cheeks, bent and laid the laurel wreath upon his brow.

The crowd hushed its sound while the little ceremony was performed and then shouted aloud again, while Jasper Holt arose and, gracefully as any of the gentlemen assembled could have done it, helped the lady down the steps and to her saddle; then mounting rode beside her, bowing gravely to right and left where were drawn up in line those other contestants over whom he had won his so-great victory. These, in spite of their chagrin, were bowing and smiling graciously, for they would not have the lady know how bitter was their defeat; and so together rode the two, silently, amid the storm of cheers, out into the arena and around the track.

Holt did not presume upon the occasion nor his position to show his intimacy with the girl beside him. Instead he rode with respectful mien, save for one grave, understanding smile at the start, by which she knew how much he hated all this publicity and would have slipped away without it but for her sake. As if their every word and look could have been heard in all that din, they rode with downcast eyes and silent lips, and there was nothing in the whole journey around the course that could in the least offend the watching, anxious, mortified sister.

Not until they were almost back to the judges' stand did Holt attempt to even glance her way, and then he spoke quite low:

"You are going on the morning train?"

She bowed assent because she could not speak. A rush of tears was in her throat at thought of leaving.

"I shall see you again to say good-bye," he said, and gave her one look and smile that filled her heart joy. Then he left her at the judges' stand with a low bow and rode out of the arena alone; a long, appreciative shout following him out of sight.

Jean, her heart too full for words, watched him; then turned to face her host of friends, who, making the best of their disappointment, were clustering around her and saying pleasant things.

The madness of the crowd over the late hero was dying down even now with his disappearance from the arena. Habit and prejudice were having sway once more. Men laughed deprecatorily over their recent frenzy and said: "Well that certainly was great riding. It takes a dare-devil to do the impossible. Of course, we know Holt can ride; still I didn't really think he could do as well as that."

By the time they were out on the street and back in their homes they had recovered their sanity enough to agree with their wives that it was a great piece of impudence for him to ride in and take all the honors away from the men who had worked so hard to make the affair a success. Yet all in their hearts felt again the thrill of excitement as they thought of those last fifty yards of the race, and secretly rejoiced that, impudence or not, Holt had entered the lists.

"You poor little girl," gushed Mrs. Thorne over Jean. "It certainly was a shame that you couldn't have had a more respectable escort in your ride around the track. Of course he looked very well and all that, I wasn't meaning his clothes; and he really behaved much better than I would have expected for him, quite modest, getting out of the way and not presuming at the end. It was so much better than if he had had to be asked to leave, you know, but still, it was a great disappointment that some of your _friends_ couldn't have shared the honor with you. Freeman, I know, will be terribly down about not winning."

"Thank you, Mrs. Thorne," said Jean sweetly, "I am sorry your son had to be disappointed, but of course everyone couldn't win, although they all did well, don't you think? But, after all, you know Mr. Holt _is_ one of my friends, in fact my first friend, because he saved my life in the wreck when I was on my way here, and helped me to get here. I really felt it quite an honor to ride with him to-day."

She turned pleasantly to greet the wife of one of the officers from the Fort and left poor Mrs. Thorne to gasp and roll her eyes in astonishment. "Of course she doesn't know him; she doesn't understand," said the poor woman in an aside to Eleanor who came up just then. "And perhaps it's just as well she shouldn't, as she's going home so soon. Poor Freeman! I don't know what he'll do. He's completely gone over her!"

Then all those fluttering girls came around Jean and began to talk at once.

"Oh, wasn't he simply great! And isn't he handsome in those togs? And isn't it a shame he has to be so wicked? And such a woman hater? I declare I thought he was going to refuse to ride around with you. And, oh, Jean, you sly thing! You knew he was going to enter when you talked about it the other day, didn't you?"

They chattered and buzzed, and the young men came presently and bore them away one at a time. It was the Captain, patient and persevering, who at last, by his very persistence, won the right to ride back to the house by Jean's side. Poor Captain, his last ride, and that glorious smile in her eyes, but not for him!

She was gentle with him when he tried again to persuade her to accept his love. She told him with a wistful sigh that all happiness in this world was not in getting what we wanted, but in knowing things were real and true and fine. She said she should always think of him as her friend, and she hoped he would forget that he had wanted anything else; and she thanked him for his beautiful orchids so sweetly that she left a warm glow in his heart, notwithstanding his double defeat.

Later, as she knelt before her window-seat and looked out into the sweet starry night, and over toward the cottage where the Golden Sunset roses grew, she forgot all the petty things that had been bothering her all day, and just let herself be glad for a little while. Then she bowed her head and prayed: "Dear Father, I thank Thee for letting them see so much. Please, some day let them all know him as he really is. Bless him and keep him. I trust him with Thee, dear Lord."

And when she fell asleep at last weary with the long day and the excitement, against her pillow under her cheek there lay soft cool petals of the golden roses, and their fragrance mingled with her dreams and brought a smile to her lips.