The Sergeant raised his pistol, and the report rang out.

At the start of the race I left the horse behind me, as I knew what was happening, I was practiced at starting, and having less momentum than the horse, drew out in front. In a few seconds I was some twenty yards ahead. How I managed to do this I don’t know, after a time the gap between us ceased to widen; and I could feel the horse gain on me, slowly at first, but stride by stride he was easily catching me. We had covered only half the distance when the horse drew level, and then came a race that I never thought I could win.

For a hundred yards and more, we ran locked together, side by side, I flew over the crisp turf, and the horse was stretched out in a fierce gallop, Barrett standing in the stirrups. The finish was only fifty yards away; the horse was drawing away from me. For an instant I felt that it was all over. Then from out of nowhere I found a hidden well of strength that I did not know I possessed. With one last effort, I passed the horse and the judges, then I fell headlong to the ground.

In the distance I could hear a frantic cheer break out along the line of soldiers. As I looked up I could see Feversham smile to himself. Although he had just lost a bet, he had gained the pleasure of knowing he was going to kill the loser. Two troopers came and poured a draught of brandy down my throat, and then raised me into a sitting position. The spirit soon revived me, and a few moments later I was able to stand, though still weak and dizzy.

A few paces away I saw Barrett standing beside his horse. I looked at him, and our eyes met. On Barrett’s face I saw an almost imperceptible smile; it was not smile, but something deeper, something I could not understand, then it struck me. I staggered back a pace or two, bewildered by the thought. I quickly went to my rival’s side, and the guards, seeing no reason to interfere, left us alone.

“You pulled that horse!” I said, shocked.

Barrett looked me, but didn’t say a word.

“You let me win,” I said, bewildered, “ For her sake you did it.”

“Make her happy.” was all he said.

As he spoke he turned away, and strode swiftly back to his position at the head of the line of prisoners

As the firing party was drawn up again, I turned my back and put my hands over my ears. Even so I could still hear, with a horrible distinctness, the Sergeant’s loud clear voice, with a pause between each word.

“Ready!”

“Present!”

“Fire!”

No sooner had the command been given than the crash of the report rang loud. Moved by an impulse that I couldn’t fight, I turned around and looked at the fallen men. The soldiers lowered their smoking muskets, and a thick white cloud hung above the line of prisoners stretched on the ground. At the far end of the line Barrett still stood and then Feversham rode over to him, Feversham took out his pistol and pointed it at Barrett. Barrett just stood there and stared back at Feversham. Perhaps Feversham was waiting for Barrett to plead for mercy, but instead of pleading he spat into Feversham’s face. As I watched it seemed as if the spit was travelling very slowly until it hit Feversham in the face, a look of absolute fury came into his eyes and he shot the bravest man I had ever met. As he fell I saw a little portrait fall from his right hand. I turned away and walked into the future.