Standing on its hind legs, it fell to savagely worrying its bit, and careering round and round.

The spectators began to fear for the youth, not that he would fall from his horse--that was out of the question--but that he would be too late for the contest, for the second report had now sounded, and the others were all awaiting the signal with loosely held reins, while his horse was curveting and pawing the ground.
When the third report resounded, the stranger suddenly gave his horse a cut with the willow switch, and let the reins hang loosely.
The smitten steed scudded off like a tempest.

Wildly, madly, it skimmed the ground beneath its feet, as only a horse can fly when, panic-stricken, it ravishes its perishing rider along with it.

None, no none, could get anywhere near it; even Martin was left many yards behind in mid-course.

The crowd gaped in amazement at the fury of the steed and the foolhardiness of the rider, especially when, in the midst of his mad career, the long chaplet of flowers fell from the youth's head, and was trampled to pieces beneath the hoofs of the other horses panting after him.