At the first thundering report the steeds began to rear and plunge; at the second they grew quite still, alertly pricking up their ears; one or two of the old racers slightly pawed the ground.

Then the third report sounded, and the same instant the whole row plunged forward into the arena.
Five or six immediately forged ahead of the rest.

These were the more impetuous horsemen, who are wont to spur their horses to the front at the outset, only to fall behind afterwards: among them was the last-comer also.

The Whitsun King was in the centre group; now and then he snapped his fingers, but as yet he had not moved his whip.

Only when three hundred paces had been traversed did he suddenly clap his spurs to his horse's flanks, lash out with his whip, utter a loud cry, and in three bounds was ahead of the others.
Then, indeed, began a shouting and yelling and cracking of whips.