LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXI, Issue 1710, 13 August 1879, Page 3

LITERATURE.

BY THE LIGHT OF THE MOON. ( Concluded.) ‘ I don’t care who starts them. Appoint whom you please. Mark, you tell Crowe to walk the horse up to the course in time. I shall be with you an hour after moonrise by Heckler’s watch ; and if I am not, I forfeit.’ Ho thereupon strode down stairs at a rapid rate, leaped into the waiting saddle, and rode off. He was gone before any of the few spectators of his departure had given his probable destination a thought. Mark, however, who observed the proceedings from one of the bar windows, smote his thigh with energy, and exclaimed : 1 Jenny, Jenny, my girl, I can see it all.’ * Can you f” replied the estimable lady, in tones of cool cynicism. ' I am delighted. Only the next time you see it all, whatever that may be, oblige mo by doing so in a quieter manner. You have broken one of our best jugs.’ ‘ Da— that is, never mind the jug. Squire Wbinridge, I can see it all.’ * Pee what ?’ queried his spouse, irately’ * Why, the jockey. Where is Grimstowe ?’

‘ I don’t know. There —get out of my way. You are neither use nor ornament here. Go and look for your Grimstowe.’ Nathaniel Grimstowe, Thornford’s one * member of Tattersall’s and the leading turf clubs,’ was a continual cause of bickering between mine host and hostess of the Whinridge Arms. Mrs Hartbrook did not approve of wagering on horse-racing, except when it meant her husband’s winning something handsome for himself and a new dress for her ; and as those pleasant results had not recently followed Mark’s speculations on the turf, she, attributing his ill-fortune to the malign influence of Nathaniel Grimstowe, had learned to hate the very sound of that ‘operator’s ’ name. Hartbrook duly found Mr Grimstowe, and after a wordy combat with him concerning * the price ’ of something, an entry made in a small oblong book showed that they had transacted business together. Thereafter, until a general exodus of his customers apprised him of the riling of the moon, the quondam servant of Gustavus Whinridge, Esq., went about his work with a countenance that beamed with unspeakable complacency. He suggested Tennyson’s ‘ Miller’:

“ The slow wise smile that round about

His rosy forehead curled and curled. Seemed half within and half without. And full of dealings with the world.” He believed that he had seen the cards in the Squire’s hands, and on the strength of that conviction he had backed him to win the trick. He was positive (the language of the meditations was strongly flavoured with striking. If not always coherent, metaphor) that * this journey at least he had got Nathaniel Grimstowe, in a line on toast.’

It wanted but twenty minutes of the stroke of midnight by Heckler’s watch, and still' the Squire came not. Standing about in animate groups in the paddock on Windyholm, the Thornford racecourse, wore many of what might be termed the upper classes of sporting society, eagerly discussing the chances of the comihg encounter; and as the momenta sped, bringing the one hour after moonrise excitingly near, wondering whether the match would come off after all. Fluefaker, ready for action, was being led out by the faithful Widgeon in one corner of the paddock, while Appletart in his clothing, was being kept gently moving at the opposite corner; Orowe, of course, in jealous attendance. Although there was not a man present who had not seen the race for the Hunt Cup, most of them criticised the nags with that impressive air of professional knowingness exhibited by a group of Newmarket touts when an unfamiliar candidate for the Guineas makes his first appearance on the classic Heath. Second in order of interest to the two flyers was Captain Dykely. He was fully equipped for the fray, and _ had been on view for some time. It was evident to the skilled eyes that scanned him that ho had made his toilet with uncommon pare. ' Looks like business,’ observed a critic of stably appearance, to a grave and silent auditory of three listeners. ‘ Couldn’t have been more particular if it was the Derby he was going to have a fly at. See his goloshes?’ The interlocutod \ad seen those uncouth casings. ‘ The ground is not so_ sticky as all that comes to. Suppose he_ is afraid of carrying an ounce of clay on his boots ? Well, I like a cove that takes care of his precious self. He means to have a good look in, and no mistake.’

The subject of these not uncomplimentary observations conversed in low tones with the Marquis of Gules, one of the stewards, who was present in response to the Captain’s urgent invitation.

Do you think he means to forfeit, Dykely ? ’ ‘ I really cannot say. It certainly looks uncommonly like a forfeit. But there is no accounting for anything that a Whinridge does.’

‘ TJpon my word, I think you are right,’ replied his lordship. ‘By the way, have you and he smoked the calumet over that poaching fellow ?’ ‘Not a bit of it,’ rejoined the Captain. ‘ And it is my belief, now that I can be calm on the subject—l was anything but that when I gorged the bait —that he meant this match as a sort of Bowland for my Oliver.’ ‘ But where is he ? Ah, there goes the quarter!’ The sound of the chimes, as it floated on the gentle night breeze from the tower of Then fi rd patish church across Windyholm, was heard and noted by the crowd, now wrought up into a nervous state of expectancy by the continued absence of the Squire, Hartbrook, unshaken until this moment in his trust in the absentee’s turning np in time, began to waver. Something had happened. Confound that Grimstowo. His bet with him was P. P. What would his wife say ?’ A sound of wheels. ‘ Hurrah 1

The cheer was not thrown away. It was the Squire, driving a dog-cart at the rate which an officer of the county constabulary would have pronounced dangerous, had anybody but the Squire held the ribbons. Ho pulled up by the paddock rails, and, leaping out, turned to assist his companion to alight, saying as ho did so—‘Hartbrook, where are yon? Take care of these. Now, Bedgy, come with me.’ ‘ Why, it’s his son Eeginald !’ In the hubbub caused by the arrival of Mr Whinridge and his youngest son, a pale thin boy of about twelve years of age, it was by no means easy for the principals In the little drama to make the preparations neqoscessary for raising the curtain.

Hartlwook, proud of Ms office, carried a light raciflg saddle and its necessary '»o companimonSe,.’ and walking by the side of the youth, followed the Squire into' the haddock.

‘ I thought it woold bayou, Master Bedgy,’ said Hsrtbrook, in a gleeful whisper; and I’ve backed you. It’ea splendid moon, and you know the track.’

‘ I should think I did, Mark. And yon, too, eh ? Recollect when I would insist on your taking me the whole line, you on old Goliah, and lon my pony, Lilliput ? And how frightened mamma was; and how the guv. tipped me a sov., eh, Mark ? ’ Hartbrook’s memory was fully as retentive of those forbidden adventures as the boy’s, but he did not consider this an appropriate moment for refreshing it. 1 Yes, yes, of course, I remember. Master Eedgy. Pine times they were. Now ftell me, what does the Squire really say about the match.’

*He has no doubt of Appletart’a ability, but ’

1 He has of yours ?’’ ‘Not exactly that. Ho thinks the exploit is rather too much for my years, and,’ (whispering) ‘that the Captain would have no objection to taking a mean advantage of this infant if he saw the opportunity. Oh, I must t< 11 you—such a lark I I was out at a dinner party, with mamma and Qretty when the guv. got to the hall to-night. Bo what does he do but gets into a tail-coat himself and comes to fetch us home, h# said. We were hurried’ off, I can tell you. And sent to bed at once. Mamma thinks he is going round with the keepers, and that I'm in bed I ’

By this time they had’ reached the paddock. JThe Squire’s arrival was greeted quite as fervently as, if more quietly than, it had been by the crowd outside. He shook hands with Lord Gules, expressed his delight at knowing that his- lordship had consented to act as a starter, and then faced the Captain. ‘ Now, Captain we get ready ? ’

‘Your jockey, Mr Whinridge ? ’ ‘ls my son Reginald. Have you any objection to him ? ’ ‘Every objection, Mr Whinridge. When I made this —I don’t mind admitting it—stupid match, it was not with tho idea that I was going to have for an opponent a mere child.’ ‘ Chi'd or not, he rides.’

‘ I am no more child than he is, papa ! ’ exclaimed the boy. ‘lf I can ride, what more does he want ? ’

‘ Hear, hear I’ cri'd the crowd. ‘ If you can ride !’ said Captain Dykely, with a sneer.

‘ Dykely,’ interposed Lord Gules, ‘ I must say that, according to the terms of the match, yon are bound to accept Whinridge’s j jekey, or forfeit.’ ‘ Veiy well,’ rejoined Dykely sullenly, • veiy well. If the baby breaks his neck, I am not to blame, mind. Let ns get it over.’

There was a stampede on the part of the ! auditors at these words in the direction of :the two most formidable obstacles in the track—a made fence at the beginning of the straight run-in, and a brook on the far side. The boy, giving np bis overcoat and hat to Hartbrook, and putting on a silk cap which ho produced from his pocket, presently appeared, like his opponent, fully equipped for action. In default of silk he wore a thin jeraev, but otherwise it would have been impossible to find fault with bis appearance. His father gave him a leg-up, and then walked by his side to the starting point, where Lord Gules was already waiting with the flag. ‘ Redgy, my dear,’ said the old fellow, in a voice that was strngely husky, ‘ you heard what the brute said about your breaking yeur neck ?’ ‘ Yes, pa ’ ‘ Well, Redgy, it made me feel that I possibly was wrong in subjecting you to such a risk. I should never forgive myselff if anything happened to yon, and 1 am sure that your mother would never forgive mo. Now, Redge, although you have but the years of a child, you are not without a man’s sense—don’t mind me at alii If you have any doubt, jump off. and I’ll' throw up the match.’

‘‘Papa, you must let me ride I After what that fellow said it would be too bad to be prevented from showing him up. Never fear. I’ll stick on 1’ ‘ Redge, your hand.’ The boy placed his hand in that of his father’s, who grasped the warm little palm with fervor, and gentiy drawing- down the lad’s head, kissed him. The boy and man understood each other. It was l seldom Gustavos Whinridge was betrayed into such an exhibition of what he would have termed feminine weakness, but the boy knew what this demonstration meant' far- better than if it had been expressed in the tenderest words. Completely out of the view and? hearing of the people, who by this time thronged the stand, the Squire imparted his final orders.

‘Keep with him, bat-not too close for the first mile, and then come- away as fast as yon can pelt. It is a splendid moon— almost as light as day—and' you ought to do the journey without the least mistake. Now, Hedge, my dear boy, show them what sort of metal you are made ofi’

Without another word he left hia son and Captain Dykely to amble their way to the starting-post, and mounting' a hack which Crowe had in readiness, cantered across to a bit of rising ground near the brook, where he could obtain an excellent view of at least three parts of ‘the country.’ About the same time Widgeon, Captrin Dykely’s man, ‘a durable band at a bet, and one of the win-tin-or-wrangle fraternity,’ (was the Hartbrsok’s unsolicited 1 testimonial to character)', was deep in an endeavor to advise Superintendent Pomyert, of the Thornford constabulary, in the matter of the probable behaviour of a restless multitude already gathered around the two ends of the waterjump, ‘ You see, Super., my governor, the Capt’in, is nervous; and' the nag he’s a-riding is nervous; so if I was yon, Super.—excuse my making so bold—l’d put most of my men by that there brook to keep the crowd quiet.’ ‘ Thank you, my man, replied the Superintendent, in freezing tones. ‘ I have made my arrangements.’ ‘Oh, have you, Mr Pompey audCresar?’ rejoined Widgeon, in a safe whisper, as he turned aside and left the lofty officer to his own devices. ‘Then 111 beta pound to a chillin’ some of those boys there nnmake ’em. Go along, old turnip-tops ; keep that bull’seye quiet, can’t you f That’s enough to make any boss shy.’

The remark is addressed to one of the Superintendent’s most zea’ous subordinates —a young man new of the force—and who is acting to night as though he considered the plentiful production of disturbing fireworks part of his duty. Widgeon takes a. front place by the brook. Crowe does likewise. Behind them in a group, three deep, of mere spectators, is Gustavos Whinridge, a prominent object in the silver and grey landscape as he stands motionless, waiting for the shout that is to signal the start. It comes at last. * They are off! ’ and the Squire, his eye-sight made keenly telescopic by the love he bears his boy, cranes forward hungrily, and missing no incident in the battle, begins in spirit to ride the race himself. ‘ That will do, Iledgy, boy ; that will do ! Let him mako the running ! Now, then, wider, wider. Hedge! Keep away from his whip hand. How gloriously that son of mine rides, to be sure—like a man I Now, then I Capital, capital ! Ah, only just over, Bedgy. The next take-off must be better judged than that, or you will be spilled, to a certainty. Now they are out of sight.’ The Squire knew every inch of the country over which the two horses were galloping : therefore his guesses at what they were doing, so long as the nags remained in view, were curiously accurate. To the other spectators Heckler, the judge, and Hartbrook, perhaps, excepted, the incidents of the race were unsupported guess-work of the roughest description; grotesquely shifting shadows which were cast by the two horses rendered obtaining an exact idea of the precise positions of the pair a matter of impossibility. • Hera they come !’ shouted the Squire in a struggling voice. ‘ Here they come, and my boy is leading ! Let him have it, Bedgy ! Loose him, my dear child ! Loose him ! Good lad ! He is coming away like a steam engine!’ As Appletart approached the brook the excitement of the Squire intensified, especially when he saw Captain Dykely was rapidly lessening the gap between him and the Squire’s horse. There was only about a length a half of moonlight between

Appletart and Fluefaker aa the former rose I like a bird over the brook and landed in I

safety.* ‘ Thank God, it’s over I* murmured Whin'* ridge ; but ho spoke too soon. The youthfa! ornament of the Thornford constabulary flashed his bull’s-eye across the path of the foremost horse, which shied, and then, terrified by the cheering of the crowd, tore along in a manner that betokened an early dissolution of partnership between him and his jockey. In a voice that was neither a shout nor a yell, but a frantio blending of both, Mr Whinridge exclaimed : ‘ The hone has bolted !■ Out of the way with you I Rcdgy, keep him straight, my boy ! Good lad, good go— !’

‘ How much did I win by ?’ asked the boy faintly, as he opened his eyes to a hushed apartment in the Whinridge Arms. He had not spoken since they picked 1 him up and found that his arm was broken. ‘ How much ?’

His father, whose eyes were moist and dim, and whoso voics was much like a woman’s, said—

‘ Twenty lengths was the judge’s verdict, Eedgy—twenty lengths, and the cup is for you, my boy. And whenever you think your father is getting out of bonds, ss you may think hereafter, show him that goblet, and remind him of what he went through when it was Won by the Light of the Moon.’