The Wild Baron (Baron 1)
Ornery jumped three feet into the air at Mr. Bittle’s loud hand clapping right next to his ears. He jumped forward, running a good twenty feet, then stopped to look around at all the shouting people. Mr. Bittle, heaving, gasping for breath, finally reached Ornery. He clapped his hands again right next to Ornery’s ears. Ornery obliging raced as fast as the wind another twenty yards.
Mrs. Lovelace’s Louis raced after small Charles Lovelace, who was running as fast as he could, dangling a dead fish off a line. Since Louis could outrun Charles, the little boy, finding himself caught by the cat, had to go onto his tiptoes so Louis wouldn’t tear the dead fish off his line.
Mr. Goodgame’s long, sleek Horace pranced along the track, his green eyes ever forward, ignoring all the other cats around him, ignoring the crowd and the noise. He kept a steady pace. Mr. Goodgame simply stood at the finish line grinning and rubbing his hands.
Horatio Blummer’s Glenda ran for half the track, just behind Horace and well ahead of all the others. Then, suddenly, she pulled up and looked at a large woman who was cheering and jumping up and down. In a flash, Glenda ran beneath her wide skirts.
As for Gilly, he immediately bounded free of Susannah’s arms. But he stopped almost immediately, looking back to her, to see her hopping up and down, shouting, “Run, Gilly, run!” Then he looked over at Rohan, who was holding Marianne, shouting, “No dinner if you don’t run your legs off!”
Marianne shouted, “No dinner!”
But he didn’t move. If a cat could frown, Gilly frowned. He licked his right paw.
Then, quite suddenly, there came a loud, very sweet baritone singing from halfway along the track:
“There was a young man who was bitten
By twenty-two cats and a kitten.
Cried he, ‘It is clear
My end is quite near.
No matter! I’ll die like a Briton!’ ”
It was Jamie. Gilly reared up, his fur stiffening, his ears cocking forward. Then he was off, racing toward that voice, which was singing the limerick again, louder this time, the voice going higher into a falsetto, an angel’s voice.
Since Jamie had started a goodly distance away, he could keep trotting further
along the track, his voice clear and loud.
But it was Mr. Goodgame’s long, sleek white Horace who was the clear leader. Jamie sang louder. Gilly ran. He was gaining on Horace.
Susannah was yelling her head off. She screamed at Toby, “That wretched Horace, he’s faster than Marianne is at snagging a tart off Rohan’s plate.”
“He’ll do it,” Toby said.
“No dinner!” Marianne shouted.
“The Secret Weapon,” Ozzie Harker said in an awed voice, yanking on Tom’s sleeve. “A new racing device.”
“That ’orace is in fine fettle,” said Tom, shaking his head. “Jest look at ’ow ’e stretches out that long body o’ ’is. I don’t know if Gilly’s got enuf time to catch ’im.”
Gilly was nearly at Horace’s flying white tail. Jamie was singing so loud the entire crowd was now clapping to the beat.
Horace and Gilly were neck and neck. Then, with no warning, Horace whipped to the side, bit Gilly on the neck, and turned in his tracks. He was running the other way. He was running right at that dead fish at the end of little Charles Lovelace’s line. He cannoned into Louis, knocking him off his paws, leaped up and caught the fish, now a bit worse for wear. He broke the line free, sending Charles backward on his bottom, and ran faster than the wind through the crowd, carrying his prize between his teeth, Mrs. Lovelace and Mr. Goodgame screaming behind him.
Louis was running as fast as he could after Horace and his fish.
“I’ve ain’t niver seen Louis run so fast,” Ozzie said, shading his eyes against the glare of the sun. “ ’E might even catch ole ’orace. It’s ’is fish, after all.”
“Naw,” Tom said. “Mrs. Lovelace will get ’orace first. Then the fur will fly.”
Gilly didn’t slow. No, if anything, he ran faster.
Jamie was waiting at the finish line. When Gilly crossed it, the clear winner, beating Glenda by at least six lengths, Jamie was belting out, “No matter! I’ll die like a Briton!”
There was loud applause.