now down to the post, he was field I saw nothing. In them taking more out of himself I took no interest, for from my than I should have cared knowledge of them I was sure about if he had been mine. that they could not stand up This performance settled me at this pace. But I could hear in my manœuvre de guerre what I knew to be St Quintin for the race. I felt certain racing behind me. Thus we that The Top could not beat took the first five fences. Then St Quintin for pace at any I felt that the time had come weight. But at the present to steady The Top. If my cal weights and distance I be- culations had been correct, the lieved that he could beat him "burster" should have served for fitness. I determined, there- its purpose. We were fore, to reverse my usual approaching the water, which methods, and instead of rid- was on the inner course in ing a waiting race, to make front of the stand. As I the pace the steepest over the steadied The Top I saw St pony course that Malinagar Quintin's white muzzle for had ever seen. The more St the first time. A momentary Quintin took out of himself glance revealed to me the fact before the start, the better that the big pony was fitter for my scheme. I therefore than I had imagined. There dawdled at the post. I was was no sign of undue distress, the cause of two false starts, and no evidence of anxiety on and then the starter lost his Lidbetter's pale face. Before temper. By way of retalia- letting The Top out for the tion The Top was away like water, I so steadied him that the wind when the flag finally St Quintin's white muzzle went down. came up level with my knee. Together we flew the water. I heard the hoarse cheers of the spectators as we landed. The Top was quicker away after landing than the big bay, but I could see that in the field he had the legs of me. The next fence was an open ditch. I steadied The Top again. Lidbetter did the same by St Quintin. He lay with his pony's nose at my knee. After the open ditch came a wall. I steadied again. Lidbetter did likewise. We flew it together. It was now clear to me that Lidbetter's tactics were to wait on me-to let my honest fencer lead at the jumps, and then when we were over The exhilaration of that first mile! It almost banished the morbid resentment that had possessed me in the desire to win this race or do something desperate in the attempt. At all times a safe and perfect jumper, The Top was now fencing in an extraordinary manner. Something of my elation and desperate purpose must have communicated itself to him, for he simply raced over the jumps, and took off just when I gave him the office. The leaps that he threw were tremendous, yet so accurately did he rise, and so cleverly land, that everything seemed to be in his stride. Of the the last fence to beat me by pace in the straight run in. He knew that his pony had the legs of mine, and that once over the last fence, he could make the finish as sensational as he chose. He was artist enough to wish to win on the post with a Chifney rush. It was not therefore now a matter of racing ponies, but, all else being equal, a question of my wit against Lidbetter's. We had now begun the second-time round, and were back to the easier fences. A fleeting suspicion had come to me. I could afford to verify it. I pressed The Top again. Gamely he responded. But as we landed over a brushed fence, the white muzzle was still at my knee. We were now coming to the awkward jump where Lidbetter had brought me to grief in the first race. I was determined that he should not bring this foul off again. I pushed The Top once more, and gave him the office a full length and a half from the jump. The effort was a big one, and the little pony responded gamely. But the white muzzle was still at my knee. I did not care now, the last fence had confirmed my suspicion. I knew more about St Quintin than my rival knew about The Top. We had come to the bank, and I eased up to it. I had now to give The Top every help I could. He was still going strong, but I should have to save him a little in order to defeat my big-striding rival. I could see out of the corner of my eye that Lidbet VOL. CLXXXVII.—NO. MCXXXV. ter also was glad of a respite. The pace had begun to tell. Of the rest of the field only two were standing up, and they were fencing as if they belonged to another race. St Quintin was still at my knee when we landed over the last fence but one. From here we edged on to the flat-racing course. There was just one flight of hurdles at the distance post, and then straight run in. the It was the time for me to make my last desperate bid for victory. I had noticed that while lying almost level with me St Quintin had taken off to his fences exactly at the same moment that The Top took off. It may have been Lidbetter's intention to do so, or, being so close up, he may not have noticed it, for the bay could jump like a stag. The remarkable quality of The Top lay in the fact that even at his utmost speed he would take off to his jump whenever given the office. I was determined that he should throw a record leap at this last hurdle. Halfway through the field I woke him up for the effort. Lidbetter thought I was trying to slip him. He brought St Quintin up to my girth again. Little did he think that by doing so he was giving me my revenge. It would have been far better for him if he had left me to clear the hurdle three lengths in front of him. Even then he could have beaten me in the last furlong. But he was not sure, and would not take 3 A the risk. I, however, was The supreme moment when you have won a race is when you ride back into the paddock. It would be impossible to describe the feelings of exultation that possessed me when I brought The Top, still stepping proudly, back to the weighing house. I had expected an ovation, for my stable was popular at this meeting. But my entry was marked by a curious silence. "What has happened?" I asked, as I awaited a steward's instructions to dis mount. take off where I please. May I dismount?" "Yes," he answered. "But it's a bad business," he added. "Was it a bad fall?" I queried as I dismounted and began to ungirth. "Bad fall?" he repeated; "you have killed them both!" "What?" I cried in amazement; "who's killed?" The clerk of the scales had turned away, but from the bystanders I learned the truth. St Quintin, taking off simultaneously with The Top, had jumped short. The rail that my pony had broken had entered its chest, and the impact with the ground had driven it home. The bay was killed stone-dead, and in the fall Lidbetter had broken his neck. My head swam as I sat in the scales. I dimly heard the clerk of the scales say "Weight," and then Harry Hewett came bustling up. His genial smile had vanished. "Jimmy," he said, not unkindly, as he put a hand on my shoulder, "the stewards would like to see you in the stand." As I passed through a lane of my own friends and brother officers I could see that their sympathies were not with me. I cared for nothing at the The clerk of the scales hur- moment until I saw her face. ried up. I stopped and faced faced her. "Miss Calthorpe, it is not a case for the stewards at all. It was an accident. I assure you he was behind me." "Jimmy, we all saw it, it,you took him into the fence on purpose." There was 8 note of shocked remonstrance in his voice. "What rubbish! I was in front, and I suppose I may She said nothing, only looked sorrowfully at me, and her eyes were filled with tears. ROWTON HOUSE RHYMES.-I. FIRST IMPRESSIONS. WHEN you've just a single shot left in your locker, If Here's your haven, here's the wounded rabbit's warren. you dread the smoky sunrise of the morrow Bringing torments, old ones, new ones, without number, Enter here and hide your fear, your sin, your sorrowBuy a bed: perhaps, you may be buying slumber. When you feel you're a bewildered bit of lumber, You, the hero, just a zero, just a cipher, Pay your seven pennies down and be a numberFor it's good to still be human as a lifer! 'Tisn't much; yet when you learn you're 97, When you're placed in proud possession of your ticket, You've the right to walk the House, and prove the Heaven That awaits you once you pass the porter's wicket. How you throw your load of sorrow off, and kick it Down the corridor a-shine with snowy tiling! What a magic thing, that sevenpenny ticket! All the black impending future's almost smiling. You may hold your head up, here, among your brothers; Yes, you feel the slack Serratus Magnus stiffenYou have grown; you are a being; they are others: They are gutter-sparrows, you are still the Griffin. There's a kitchen where they feed you, so you tiffinSloppy tea and sodden bread and cruel butter! Ah! it's now the mental back begins to stiffen: When the belly's full God leaps from every gutter, There is hope and cheer in London's roar and rumble, There is promise in the rain's persistent batter, There is order plain in Life's eternal jumble, And To-morrow-Lord, To-morrow doesn't matter! For like stomach-warmth there's none knows how to flatterO it's Paradise you purchase for a pittance! With the largess of a steak, why, you would batter Down the Door of Life should Fate deny admittance! Fate? O shoot at Fate the tongue-tip of derision! Pass the iron gates, and mount this stony ladder Leads to Dreamland and the Pisgah-heights of Vision, Piercing sunset skies of saffron and rose-madder. Here the soul finds poppy-juice to ease and glad her, And the radiant lotus-flower of royal slumber! Truly, this cemented stair's a golden ladder Angel-cohorts, bearing lilies, climb and cumber. 89, and 93, and 97 That your cubicle? Ah! no, it is your splendid Joyous Gard, the very ante-room of Heaven, Your Friedenheim with all your frettings ended! Half, already, of the "ravelled sleeve" is mended Ere you've squirmed below the blanket brown and narrow. (Blessëd blanket! Is it not a buckler splendid Nobly warding off Insomnia's poisoned arrow?) So you open wide your eager arms, and clasping Close the only steadfast mistress, Sleep; forgetting In her soft embrace your groping and your grasping After food and farthings, all your fear and fretting, Your wearinesses, multiform, besetting, Slip from you in the rosy flood of Dreaming: The Sun shall rise for you, and know no setting, And Fortune's hands with gold and gems be teeming.... But midway in your dream you hear a sighing, A dolorous complaint, that breaks your sleeping: "Ah! God, it is a man, a man that's crying!" And lo! your cheeks are wet. 'Tis you are weeping. |