At last the trees ceased and they found themselves on the hilltop in a
glare of sunlight, on a space of worn ground where donkeys were tethered.
"Is this the Derby?" said Sarah.
"I hope you're not disappointed?"
"No, dear; but where's all the people--the drags, the carriages?"
"We'll see them presently," said old John, and he volunteered some
explanations. The white building was the Grand Stand. The winning-post was
a little further this way.
"Where do they start?" said Sarah.
"Over yonder, where you see that clump. They run through the furze right
up to Tattenham Corner."
A vast crowd swarmed over the opposite hill, and beyond the crowd the
women saw a piece of open downland dotted with bushes, and rising in
gentle incline to a belt of trees which closed the horizon. "Where them
trees are, that's _Tattenham Corner_." The words seemed to fill old John
with enthusiasm, and he described how the horses came round this side of
the trees. "They comes right down that 'ere 'ill--there's the dip--and
they finishes opposite to where we is standing. Yonder, by Barnard's
Ring."
"What, all among the people?" said Sarah.
"The police will get the people right back up the hill."
"That's where we shall find William," said Esther.
"I'm getting a bit peckish; ain't you, dear? He's got the
luncheon-basket.
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