Robbery Under Arms [212]
she knew enough not to talk to me or pretend to know me. `I want to back him for a fiver. I hope that old Jacob hasn't gone wrong.'
`What do you call your horse?' says Joe. `I didn't know your father had one in this race.'
`No fear,' says Maddie; `only this horse was exercised for a bit near our place. He's a regular beauty, and there isn't a horse in this lot fit to see the way he goes.'
`Who does he belong to?' says Joe.
`That's a secret at present,' says she; `but you'll know some day, when you're a bit older, if you behave yourself. He's Mr. Jacob Benton's Darkie now, and you bet on him to the coat on your back.'
`I'll see what I think of him first,' says Joe, who didn't fancy having a horse rammed down his throat like that.
`If you don't like him you don't like me,' says Maddie. `So mind that, Joe Moreton.'
Just as she spoke there was a stir in the crowd, and old Jacob came along across the course leading a horse with a sheet on, just as easy-going as if he'd a day to spare. One of the stewards rode up to him, and asked him what he meant by being so late.
The old chap pulls out his watch. `You'll stick to your advertised time, won't you? I've time to weigh, time to pull off this here sheet and my overcoat, time to mount, and a minute to spare. I never was late in my life, governor.'
Most of the riding mob was down with the racehorses, a distance or so from the stand, where they was to start, the course being over two miles. So the weighing yard and stand was pretty well empty, which was just what old Jacob expected.
The old man walks over to the scales and has himself weighed all regular, declaring a pound overweight for fear of accidents. He gets down as quiet and easy as possible to the starting point, and just in time to walk up steadily with the other horses, when down goes the starter's flag, and `Off' was the word. Starlight and the Dawsons were down there waiting for him. As they went away one of the ringmen says, `Ten to one against Darkie. I lay Darkie.' `Done,' says Starlight; `will you do it in tens?' `All right,' says the `book'. `I'll take you,' says both the Dawsons, and he entered their names.
They'd taken all they could get the night before at the hotel; and as no one knew anything about Darkie, and he had top weight, he hadn't many backers.
Chapter 43
Mr. Dawson drove pretty near the stand then, and they all stood up in the drag. I went back to Aileen and Gracey Storefield. We were close by the winning post when they came past; they had to go another time round.
The Sydney horses were first and second, the diggers' favourite third; but old Rainbow, lying well up, was coming through the ruck hard held and looking full of running. They passed close by us. What a sight it is to see a dozen blood horses in top condition come past you like a flash of lightning! How their hoofs thunder on the level turf! How the jockeys' silk jackets rustle in the wind they make! How muscle and sinew strain as they pretty near fly through the air! No wonder us young fellows, and the girls too, feel it's worth a year of their lives to go to a good race. Yes, and will to the world's end. `O you darling Rainbow!' I heard Aileen say. `Are you going to win this race and triumph over all these grand horses? What a sight it will be! I didn't think I could have cared for a race so much.'
It didn't seem hardly any time before they were half-way round again, and the struggle was on, in good downright earnest. One of the Sydney horses began to shake his tail. The other still kept the lead. Then the Turon favourite -- a real game pebble of a little horse -- began to show up.
`Hotspur, Hotspur! No. Bronzewing has it -- Bronzewing. It's Bronzewing's race. Turon for ever!' the crowd kept yelling.
`Oh! look at Rainbow!' says Aileen. And just then, at the turn, old Jacob sat down on him. The old horse challenged Bronzewing, passed him, and collared Hotspur. `Darkie! Darkie!' shouts everybody. `No! Hotspur -- Darkie's coming -- Darkie -- Darkie! I tell
`What do you call your horse?' says Joe. `I didn't know your father had one in this race.'
`No fear,' says Maddie; `only this horse was exercised for a bit near our place. He's a regular beauty, and there isn't a horse in this lot fit to see the way he goes.'
`Who does he belong to?' says Joe.
`That's a secret at present,' says she; `but you'll know some day, when you're a bit older, if you behave yourself. He's Mr. Jacob Benton's Darkie now, and you bet on him to the coat on your back.'
`I'll see what I think of him first,' says Joe, who didn't fancy having a horse rammed down his throat like that.
`If you don't like him you don't like me,' says Maddie. `So mind that, Joe Moreton.'
Just as she spoke there was a stir in the crowd, and old Jacob came along across the course leading a horse with a sheet on, just as easy-going as if he'd a day to spare. One of the stewards rode up to him, and asked him what he meant by being so late.
The old chap pulls out his watch. `You'll stick to your advertised time, won't you? I've time to weigh, time to pull off this here sheet and my overcoat, time to mount, and a minute to spare. I never was late in my life, governor.'
Most of the riding mob was down with the racehorses, a distance or so from the stand, where they was to start, the course being over two miles. So the weighing yard and stand was pretty well empty, which was just what old Jacob expected.
The old man walks over to the scales and has himself weighed all regular, declaring a pound overweight for fear of accidents. He gets down as quiet and easy as possible to the starting point, and just in time to walk up steadily with the other horses, when down goes the starter's flag, and `Off' was the word. Starlight and the Dawsons were down there waiting for him. As they went away one of the ringmen says, `Ten to one against Darkie. I lay Darkie.' `Done,' says Starlight; `will you do it in tens?' `All right,' says the `book'. `I'll take you,' says both the Dawsons, and he entered their names.
They'd taken all they could get the night before at the hotel; and as no one knew anything about Darkie, and he had top weight, he hadn't many backers.
Chapter 43
Mr. Dawson drove pretty near the stand then, and they all stood up in the drag. I went back to Aileen and Gracey Storefield. We were close by the winning post when they came past; they had to go another time round.
The Sydney horses were first and second, the diggers' favourite third; but old Rainbow, lying well up, was coming through the ruck hard held and looking full of running. They passed close by us. What a sight it is to see a dozen blood horses in top condition come past you like a flash of lightning! How their hoofs thunder on the level turf! How the jockeys' silk jackets rustle in the wind they make! How muscle and sinew strain as they pretty near fly through the air! No wonder us young fellows, and the girls too, feel it's worth a year of their lives to go to a good race. Yes, and will to the world's end. `O you darling Rainbow!' I heard Aileen say. `Are you going to win this race and triumph over all these grand horses? What a sight it will be! I didn't think I could have cared for a race so much.'
It didn't seem hardly any time before they were half-way round again, and the struggle was on, in good downright earnest. One of the Sydney horses began to shake his tail. The other still kept the lead. Then the Turon favourite -- a real game pebble of a little horse -- began to show up.
`Hotspur, Hotspur! No. Bronzewing has it -- Bronzewing. It's Bronzewing's race. Turon for ever!' the crowd kept yelling.
`Oh! look at Rainbow!' says Aileen. And just then, at the turn, old Jacob sat down on him. The old horse challenged Bronzewing, passed him, and collared Hotspur. `Darkie! Darkie!' shouts everybody. `No! Hotspur -- Darkie's coming -- Darkie -- Darkie! I tell