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

smiling.

He came up to the scratch sullenly. 'One minute to go!'
called out the starter.

We were all on the alert. There was a pause; a deep
breath. I was horribly frightened, but I tried to look
calm. Then sharp and quick came the one word 'Go!' And like
arrows from a bow, off we all started.

I had ridden over the whole course the day but one before,
on a mountain pony, with an observant eye and my sedulous
American--rising at five o'clock, so as not to excite undue
attention; and I therefore knew beforehand the exact route
we were to follow; but I confess when I saw the Prussian
lieutenant and one of my other competitors dash forward at a
pace that simply astonished me, that fifty pounds seemed to
melt away in the dim abyss of the Ewigkeit.

I gave up all for lost. I could never make the running
against such practised cyclists.

However, we all turned out into the open road which leads
across the plain and down the Main valley, in the direction
of Mayence. For the first ten miles or so, it is a dusty
level. The surface is perfect; but 'twas a blinding white
thread. As I toiled along it, that broiling June day, I
could hear the voice of my backer, who followed on
horseback, exhorting me in loud tones, 'Don't scorch, miss;
don't scorch; never mind ef you lose sight of 'em. Keep
your wind; that's the point. The wind, the wind's
everything. Let 'em beat you on the level; you'll catch 'em
up fast enough when you get on the Taunus!'

But in spite of his encouragement, I almost lost heart as
I saw one after another of my opponents' backs disappear in
the distance, till at last I was left toiling along the bare
white road alone, in a shower-bath of sunlight, with just a
dense cloud of dust rising gray far ahead of me. My head
swam. It repented me of my boldness.

Then the riders on horseback began to grumble; for by
police regulation they were not allowed to pass the hindmost
of the cyclists; and they were kept back by my presence from
following up their special champions. 'Give it up,
Fraulein, give it up!' they cried. 'You're beaten. Let us
pass and get forward.' But at the selfsame moment, I heard
the shrill voice of my American friend whooping aloud across
the din, 'Don't you do nothing of the sort, miss! You stick
to it, and keep your wind! It's the wind that wins! Them