directly under this.

Nearer and nearer steed and rider approached the point of interest.

The spectators gaped and squirmed, vastly excited, but silent now.

About one hundred feet away from the tree stump, Andy shouted out the
quick word:

"Ready."

At once Alf Warren drew the match in his free hand across his coat
sleeve. It lighted. He applied the ignited splinter to the edge of
the hoop.

The oil-soaked covering took fire instantly. The blaze ran round the
circle. The hoop burst into a wreath of light, darting flames.

Andy fixed a calculating eye on hoop and holder.

"Two inches lower," he ordered--"keep it firm."

The horse seemed inclined to swerve at a sight of the fiery hoop. Andy
soothed Dobbin by word and kept him steady with the bridle reins.

Everything seemed working smoothly. Andy moved to the extreme rear edge
of the platform and poised there.

Five feet away from the hoop he dropped the riding whip. Then he flung
the reins across the horse's neck.