"Allen, Grant - Miss Cayley's Adventures 03 - The Adenture of the Inquisitive American" - читать интересную книгу автора (Allen Grant)

On Saturday, I confess, I rose with great misgivings. I
was not a professional; and to find oneself practically
backed for a thousand pounds in a race against men is a
trifle disquieting. Still, having once put my hand to the
plough, I felt I was bound to pull it through somehow. I
dressed my hair neatly, in a very tight coil. I ate a light
breakfast, eschewing the fried sausages which the Blighted
Fraus pressed upon my notice, and satisfying myself with a
gently-boiled egg and some toast and coffee. I always found
I rowed best at Cambridge on the lightest diet; in my
opinion, the raw beef regime is a serious error in training.

At a minute or two before eleven I turned up at the
Schiller Platz in my short serge dress and cycling jacket.
The great square was thronged with spectators to see us
start; the police made a lane through their midst for the
riders. My backer had advised me to come to the post as
late as possible, 'For I have entered your name,' he said,
'simply as Lois Cayley. These Deutschers don't think but
what you're a man and a brother. But I am apprehensive of
con-tingencies. When you put in a show they'll try to raise
objections to you on account of your being a female. There
won't be much time, though, and I shall rush the objections
Once they let you run and win, it don't matter to me whether
I get the twenty thousand marks or not. It's the
advertizement that tells. Jest you mark my words; miss, and
don't you make no mistake about it--the world to-day is
governed by advertizement.'

So I turned up at the last moment, and cast a timid glance
at my competitors. They were all men, of course, and two of
them were German officers in a sort of undress cycling
uniform. They eyed me superciliously. One of them went up
and spoke to the Herr Over-Superintendent who had charge of
the contest. I understood him to be lodging an objection
against a mere woman taking part in the race. The Herr
Over-Superintendent, a bulky official came up beside me and
perpended visibly. He bent his big brows to it. 'Twas
appalling to observe the measurable amount of Teutonic
cerebration going on under cover of his round, green
glasses. He was perpending for some minutes. Time was
almost up. Then he turned to Mr. Hitchcock, having finally
made up his colossal mind, and murmured rudely, 'The woman
cannot compete.'

'Why not?' I inquired, in my very sweetest German, with an
angelic smile, though my heart trembled.

'Warum nicht? Because the word "rider" in the Kaiserly