LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXI, Issue 1805, 3 December 1879, Page 3

LITERATURE.

A DARK HORSE. [From the “Illustrated and Dramatic News.”) ( Concluded .)

e The performance of R Vbig Australian, ® Sydney, had been trumpeted to the world "> from the house-tops, not a child in the city 9 was ignorant of the fact that he had done five 0 miles inside sixteen minutes (good going for " those latitudes) and finished bard held. A ® match between Sydney and the Reptile resolved itself consequently into the simple proposition—would the pacer go the course, 1 in public, without a break-up ? We (Mickey 9 was my only confidant) calculated it would be 1 an easy matter to ‘get on’ ; the race dinner 9 on the day of the Spring Meeting was always prolific of matches, R was sure to win, and consequently, as Mickey said, to bo ‘as proud as tbe cashier of two banks,* and open to any engagement. , In brief: The Santiago Spring Meeting was [ won and lost. 1. Sydney. 2. Wonder , (another English horse). 3. Quien Sabe ?at | the head of the native contingent of eleven horses. And at the dinner that evening my dear friend R— swelled with importance, and sighed, like Alexander, far other worlds to conquer. Before the fish was off the table, X fixed him with the match upon my own terms, and amidst a chorus of derisive cheers and howls that would have done credit to a lunatic asylum, or a gang of Home Rulers on an obstruction night in the House. I Lft early, with the object of giving The Reptile a midnight spin with Quien Sabe ? available at last for the purpose, taking with me a copy of the articles of agreement, made out in accordance with the customs of the country, and which, though it halts in English, might bo translated : Match, Mr R ’a bay g’dg Sydney vMr W 'e parti-colored g’dg The Reptile. Stakes, 2,500 dols. Distance—Five times round the disused native racecourse, calculated at 1? miles—total, 6i miles. Catch weights. Owners up. To be decided on Wednesday, 15th September, 18— P.P. “ N.B.—Winning jockey may claim losing horse in lieu of stakes, if he declare to that effect before leaving the course,” followed the signatures of judge, referee, and lap-scorer, agreed upon between us, and our own, I should mention that “ the disused native racecourse ” had been, during the preceding fortnight, the scene of the pacer’s nocturnal flight; it had been superseded by a belter and straighter mile and a half course, was shaped like a horseshoe, and measured exactly ] a mile from point to point, and approxi- I mately a mile and a quarter completing the 1 oval. R made no difficulty about the P.S. quoted above, which was an unusual clause in similar agreements. I anticipated he would have exploded with indignation, but he was too indignant to explode. *Of course, I wouldn’t sell Sydney for I twice the stakes,’ he said ; * but if yon want

the losing jockey to eat the winning horse raw. put it down, and I’Jl sign it, mir ist es gang I Vurst.’ As usual, several other matches were arranged for the Wednesday following the Spring Meeting; the week that intervened seemed composed of ages and lifetimes. The Beptile’s midnight trials were discontinued for fear of watchers, but I trotted him out ostentatiously at all hours of the day, through the most populous districts, taking oil my spurs to practise starts, and sometimes surreptitiously allowing him a long run, only when I was certain that no eyes but the hedge-sparrows, could take note of his performance. I was secure from direct chaff; the great joke was to treat the impending matoh as a serious race, and the entire community fell into that idea, as by tacit consent. Tracts, treating of temperance, were sent me by post, either from the Society of Total Abstainers, or from my dear friend R , and one good man, an elder of the city, who, I knew, refused to give any but the shortest odds against me “with the extra lap,” publicly denounced race-dinners as “orgies, at which young men.” &o.

‘ With the extra lap,’ requires a word of explanation : As no amount of odds could possibly equalise the chances of the two horses, supposed to be the very best and the very worst in the country, or public form, ninetenths of the outside betting was based on the terms that Sydney should complete his fifth lap of one and a quarter miles (six and a quarter miles) before the Reptile had got through the fourth (five miles) —at this price I filled a book, and Mickey invested his bottom dollar; still at long odds in fact, with or without the extra lap, The Reptile was almost friendless in the market.

The crowd on that memorable Wednesday was certainly greater than the racecourse had ever before contained. R—-—, got up in a black and yellow jacket (his national colours, he called it), looked the impersonifieation of a meteor. 1 rode The Reptile out at a walk (a little preliminary exercise always did him good) in a cosmopolitan shooting coat and a straw hat. Sydney, under charge of his trainer all to himself—had been sent out to the course on the previous evening. Sydney was not a racer in the stud book interpretation of the term, but he was a first-rate specimen of an imported colonial half-bred, fashionable site, sent ont at an enormous expense from England, mare unnamed, some backwoods selection, and independently of his pedigree, he looked, and was, a good all-ronnd horse, moderately fast, and plenty of power. When I saw him slash out his hind leg as the stable boy approached with his saddle, giving that peculiar semi-circular kick which appears to be indicative of high-bred playfulness rather than vice, I thought of the way he had outdone his field a week before, and wondered whether six miles odd and an injudicious jockey would be too much for him and too little for me.

The start was advertised for two o’clock, and there could be no possible trouble about sending us off on our journey. Sydney, pulling R half ont of the saddle, was a dozen lengths ahead before I could induce The Reptile to begin to shake himself into his pace, and increasing his lead at every stride, which was just what I expected, and was prepared for. What I did not expect was to see several small clouds in quick succession, apparently taking their rise from his jockey’s left shoulder, and floating towards me. They were composed of feathers—a hint that I should find wings necessary. The joke was expressive, to judge by the roars of the bystanders, as I managed to secure a few before they reached the ground. Judge, referee, and lap scorer were ensconced in a little tent at the point that served for starting and winning post. As I passed them at the finish of the first lap, some one shouted, ‘Four, fifty-two,’ and proceeded to chalk those figures upon a large black board. I made a mental note of that black board, and the next time I saw it, as the time keeper shouted ‘Throe, fifty-five’ for my score, I read Sydney The Beptile First lap ... 3.20 ... 4.52 Second lap ... 350

Sydney’s third lap took him 3.60 again (I think the race was considered so surely his that odd seconds were not computed at first), whilst I got round in 3.20, The Reptile just beginning to work himself into going order, and moving under mo like a locomotive. I had nearly lost all apprehension of his breaking up, and, barring that accident, I felt I must win.

Fourth lap : Sydney, 4.17 ; The Reptile, 3.15. I had got so close to the big Australian that I could take stock of what he was doing, and what he had done, and calculate the issue to a nicety. He was lumbering along rather heavily, as if a very little more would be as much as he cared for, lots of go left in him, but still straggling in his stride, and gradually shutting off steam. I gave him a wide berth for fear of accidents, probably losing a second or two by so doing. My pacer’s unshod hoofs were so noiseless on the dry turf, and the concourse had remained so dumb with astonishment at his proceedings, that 1 am certain B bad no idea that I was within a mile of him until I shot past as if he and his horse were standing still, letting fly the small handful of feathers I had caught at the start so soon as I was well clear in front. My whole atten-

tion was concentrated on The Reptile’s nose; stolid as he was, I feared the sudden burst of [shouting as I took the lead would disconcert him, and cause him to break up, which implied the loss of the race, as I knew by the voices that caught my ear, and occasional hoof-strokes in the pauses, that Sydney was rushing and spurting in my tracks, making a final effort to overhaul me. His rushes, spurts and efforts were useless,

or ■worse. The Beptile was under higir pressure with a full head of steam, his nose remained “tip tilted like the petal of a flower," and all my strength on the camelbit, with the leverage of a double-purchase-martingale I had invented for the purpose, was insufficient to bring it down and pull him up within pistol shot of the right side of the winning post. By the time I did manage, to drag his head round, my dear friend R—had also got home, and was blankly scrutinising the black-board as the lap-scorer completed the figures. It read : Sydney. The Reptile--Ist Lap ... 320 ... 452 2nd „ ... 350 ... 3.65 3rd » ... 3.50 ... 3.20 4th „ ... 417 ... s is sth 4 20 ... 3. OS Minutes ... 19.37 ... IS 30 “ And, as to distance,” the judge remarked, as I joined the party, “it was a good halfmile, perhaps nearer three quarters, but you were so far off I couldn’t well see where he left you—half-a-lap’s as close as T can fix it.