Bred In The Bone Part 4

As soon as they were settled, the young lady picked up a paper lying by, and began to search diligently for the name of her horse.

"Ah, here it is!" She began to read. It was a column of forecasts. "Tell me, please, what does '100 to 1' mean!"

"That the horse is selling at that."

"Selling? What does that meant"

There was an explosion of laughter from those about her. They explained.

"Oh, what cheats men are!" she exclaimed with conviction.

"Come, I 'll let you off if you ask quarter," laughed Mr. Newby. "No horse can jump with knees as big as that."

"Never! I 'll back him to the end," she declared. "Oh, there he is now!

There is his yellow jacket," she added, as the buzz grew louder about them, and gla.s.ses were levelled at the horses as they filed by spirited and springy on their way to the starting-point some furlongs down the course. No one else appeared to be looking at the big brown. But his rider was scanning the boxes till his eye rested on a big hat with a white feather; then he sat up very straight.

Two of the gentlemen came up from the paddock. Colonel Snowden had the horse that was next to the favorite. They were now talking over the chances.

"Well, what are you going to do? How do you stand?" his friends asked.

"A good chance to win. I don't know what that new horse can do, of course; but I should not think he could beat Hurricane."

"Of course he cannot," said Mr. Newby. "Ridden by a green country boy!"

"He has some good points and has a fine pedigree."

Mr. Newby raised his eyebrows. "So has his rider; but pedigrees don't count in rides."

"I never could understand why blood should count in horses and not in men," said Miss Ashland, placidly. "Oh, I hope he 'll win!" she exclaimed, turning her eager face and glancing back at the gentlemen over her shoulder.

"Well, I like that!" laughed Colonel Snowden. "With all that money on the race! I thought you were backing Hurricane?"

"Oh, but he hasn't anybody to back him," she protested. "No; I sha 'nt back Hurricane. I shall back him."

"Which? The horse or the rider?"

"The horse--no, both!" she declared, firmly. "And oh, papa," she exclaimed, glancing back at him over her shoulder, "they say he wants to win to send his sister to school and to go to college himself."

"Well, I must say you seem to have learned a good deal about him for the time you had."

She nodded brightly. "That 's what the old colored man told a friend of mine."

"If he does n't go to college till he wins with that horse," said Mr.

Newby, "he is likely to find his education abbreviated."

"I shall back him, anyhow." She settled herself in her seat.

"Here, I 'll tell you what I will do. I will bet you he don't get a place," said Mr. Newby.

"How much? What is a 'place'?" she asked.

It was explained to her.

"How much--a hundred to one!"

"No; not that!"

"You 're learning," laughed her friends.

"There! they 're off. Here they come!" buzzed the crowd, as the flag at last fell, and they came up the field, a dozen in all, two in the lead, then a half-dozen together in a bunch, and two or three behind, one in the rear of all. Old Robin's heart dropped as the cry went up: "The countryman 's left. It 's yellow-jacket!" It was too far off for him to see clearly, but the laughter about him was enough.

"That boy don't know how to ride. What did they put him in for?" they said.

A minute later, however, the tone changed. The country boy was coming up, and was holding his horse in, too. The riders were settling themselves and spreading out, getting their horses in hand for the long gallop.

In fact, the old trainer's last piece of advice to his young pupil was worthy of a Delphic track,

"Don' let 'em lef you; but don't let 'em wind you. Don't git so far behind 't folks 'll think you 's ridin' in de next race; but save him for de last half-mile. You 'll have plenty o' room den to let him out, an' de track 's mighty heavy. Watch Hurricane an' Fightin' Creek. Keep nigh 'em, but save him, an' look out for de Liverpool."

It was on this advice that the young rider was acting, and though he was in the rear at the start he did not mind it. He saw that two or three riders were trying to set the pace to kill off the other horses, and he held his horse in, picking his ground.

So they pa.s.sed two or three fences, the horses in the same order, and came toward the water-jump in front of the stands. It was a temptation to rush for it, for the safest chance was in front, and the eyes of thousands were on them. Some of the riders did rush, and the leaders got over it well; but in the bunch two horses struck and went down, one going over and turning a complete somersault on the other side, the other from a false take-off falling back on the near side, with his rider almost under him, immediately in front of young Johnston's horse.

Whether it was the fall of the two horses with the splash of the water in the ditch beyond, or whether it was the sudden twitch that Johnston gave his bridle to turn the brown as the horse and rider rolled almost immediately before him, or whether it was all these taken together, the brown horse swerved and refused turning entirely back, while the rest of the field swept on. The other horses and riders had scrambled to their feet, and the mind of the crowd was relieved. They broke into a great shout of laughter as the rider of the brown deliberately rode the horse back.

"You are going the wrong way!"

"He 's going to meet 'em!" they shouted, derisively.

Even the gentlemen about the young girl of the white hat in the club box who had backed the brown horse could not help joining in.

"Now, Miss Catherine, where are you?" asked Mr. Newby. "Will you allow that I can pick a horse better than you? If so, I 'll let you off."

"He pulled him out to avoid striking those other men," declared the girl, warmly. "I saw him."

"Oh, nonsense! Who ever heard of a man pulling out in a steeplechase to avoid striking another horse? I have heard of a man pulling out to avoid killing his own horse; but that boy pulled out because his horse refused. That horse had more sense than he. He knew he could n't take it. h.e.l.lo! what 's he doing?" For young Johnston, his face set hard, had turned his horse and headed him again toward the jump. At that moment the other horses were rising the slope on top of which was the next jump, and the brown caught sight of them. He had appeared till now a little bewildered; but the effect was electrical. His head went up, his ears went forward; a sudden fury seemed to seize him, and he shot forward like a rocket, while the crowd on the other side of the track hooted in derision.

"By Jove! He 'll go down if he rushes like that," cried the men in the box. But he did not. He hardly appeared to see the fence before him any more than he heard the jeers of the crowd. With high head and pointed ears, he dashed at it, taking it in his stride, and clearing it with a mighty bound.

The crowd in the stands, carried away, burst into a storm of applause, and the gentlemen about the young girl of the big white hat clapped their hands.

Old Robin, down in the paddock, was shouting and talking volubly to a crowd of strangers.

"He 's a jumper! He 's got de pedigree. Dat 's blood. You ain' see my old master's hosses befo'."

"Your old master's horses!" growled a gruff voice behind him. "You made me lose fifty dollars on yer blanked horse wid yer blanked lies. You 'll pay it back or yer won't see that watch ag'in."

Robin glanced at the angry p.a.w.nbroker, but he did not have time to argue then. The horse galloping up the long slope before the stables engrossed his attention. He simply edged away from his reviler, who went off to "hedge" his bets, if possible.

"He 's a good horse, but he 's out of the race," said one of the gentlemen who had been bantering Miss Ashland.