"Robert!"
He lay on his face, groaning softly. I put my hands under him and helped haul him upright, with his face twisted in pain and one hand on his haunches. "Are you badly hurt?"
"Not too bad," he said, trying to be brave. "That devil in the yellow jack unhorsed me and landed a foul stroke."
"I was watching," I said. "Luck was not with you."
I saw Mother embracing Father, both of them chatting noisily as if they were young people in love and not grey-haired oldsters who should have known better and behaved with more propriety.
"I think he cut me badly." Robert was rubbing at himself.
"You will have the luck next time." I wondered if I should offer to check his wounds, decided that I had better not look at that part of him and offered him my arm for support instead.
"He ran too f
