the voices of the multitude, and while the stable boys walked their
aristocratic charges, shrouded in blankets, exercising them sedately--in
the midst of all this movement, hubbub, and excitement a man a little to
one side, apparently unconscious of all the uproar, was busy with a big
box set up on a portable framework six or seven feet above the ground.
The man was a new kind of photographer, and his big box was a camera
with which he purposed to take a series of pictures of the race. Above
the box, which was about two and a half feet square, was an electric
motor from which ran a belt connecting with the inner mechanism; from
the front of the box protruded the lens, its glassy eye so turned as to
get a full sweep of the track; nearby on the ground were piled the
storage batteries which were used to supply the current for the motor.

As the time for the race drew near the excitement increased, figures
darted here, there and everywhere, the bobbing, brightly coloured hats
of the women in the great slanting field of the grandstand suggesting
bunches of flowers agitated by the breeze. Then the horses paraded in a
thoroughbred fashion, as if they appreciated their lengthy pedigrees and
understood their importance.

At last the splendid animals were lined up across the track, their small
jockeys in their brilliantly coloured jackets hunched up like monkeys on
their backs. Then the enormous crowd was quiet, the band was still, even
the noisy programme venders ceased calling their wares, and the
photographer stood quietly beside his camera, the motor humming, his
hand on the switch that starts the internal machinery. Suddenly the
starter dropped his arm, the barring gate flew up, and the horses sprang
forward. "They're off!" came from a thousand throats in unison. The band
struck up a lively air, and the vast assemblage watched with excited
eyes the flying horses. As the horses swept on round the turn and down