Novelist. BY SLOW DEGREES. A STORY OF AUSTRALIA. BY ALEXANDER MONTGOMERY. AUTHOR OF "THAT FELLOW FARNESE." CHAPTER XXXVII (continued).

Waikato Times, Volume XIX, Issue 1622, 25 November 1882, Page 1 (Supplement)

Novelist. BY SLOW DEGREES. A STORY OF AUSTRALIA. BY ALEXANDER MONTGOMERY. AUTHOR OF "THAT FELLOW FARNESE."

CH APTER XXXVII (continued).

•'Servant, gcntl'rnen, servant," he said, " Goin' to have a shower, 1 thinks. J hopes it will clear off before the Cup's run. A grand race it will be ; thirty-five staiters for certain ; but, I'll tell you what — I doesn't believe King of the South will do the trick; blamed if I does!" " What do you think of Isandula's chance?" asked Walter. " Isamlula ? Lord bless you ! he ain't in it, by a long way. The company's a lot too good for him, — How do, Mr. Tompion ? Excuse me, gentlemen, I wants to say a word to him." Aud the ornament of the prizering ha&tened off after the magnate of the betting-ring. A few minutes after-wards, we came across Shuter and Fysshe. "Very man I wished to see!" said the former to me — "if you don't mind coming this way for a moment. You'll excuse us, Addison," he added, with a twinkle in his eye. " Fysshe will keep you amused till your friend comes back."' " Mr. Fysshe is here professionally, I suppose," .said I, when we had got some distance away from the others. "I should scarcely have thought he was the man to do justice to such a scene." "Neither is he," returned Shuter. Good enough for the bare details of the lacing. As to'writing a readable narrative of the general proceedings, he could no more do it than fly ! — completely floored, when he had exhausted his stock phrases. But what I wanted to say to you is this, you are staying with Count — Count — What's his name ?" " Giustiniani ?" " Yes ; and you can toll me, therefore, if a — a young lady, named Stone, has lcccnlly joined the family as companion to the Count's daughter." And Mr. Shuter blushed like a girl. " Yes. It is about a week since she came to live with us at Cintra." " Thank you ! I know her, you see ! Just thought I'd ask you, you know. Let's go back. Or, stay !" added Shuter, suddenly, " you're sure to guess how it is, so I may just as well tell you that — well — that I have rather an admiration for Miss Stone ; but her father won't hear of it I" " Yeo," I said; "I have heard something to that effect." "Deuce you have I From whom ?" asked Shuter. "Addison, I suppose! Well, it's rather unreasonable of the old gentleman ; but I don't debpair of bringing him round. Let's £o back now, and see if Fysshe has bored Addison to death." " So there are two distressed, but hopeful, knights," I said to myself, as we walked back. " Well, this one has my good wishes as well as the other." " The weather ia characterised to-day by excessive variability," observed Fysshe, with lefeience to a smart shower which began to fall as we rejoined him aud Walter. " Let's get inside, then," said Shuter, " and correct the ' variability ' with a 'nobbier.' " " Dark brandy and port wino," said Mr. Fysshe, as we stood as the refreshment counter," with a slight preponderance of the latter." " With a — what, sir?" asked the astonished barmaid. " Let the proportion of the less potent fluid slightly exceed that ot the other," relurngd Fyoshe, gravely. The girl giggled, then frowned, and tossed her head. " I wish you'd a^k for what you want, sir," she said, " without trying to make a fool of one !" " I am unaware of having said anything of nn exacerbating chaiactei," said Fysshe, opening his eyes very wide. Shuter explained. The girl laughed, and supplied Fysshe with what he dcsiied, and we went outside again — to find the horses coming out for the next race. " It was run in a heavy rain ; but, scarcely had the drenched winner returned to scale, when the clouds broke, and the sun shone out again. " A good omen for the Cup," said Walter. " It cannot be a good omen for everybody," I said ; — " but do not let me discourage you. You look quite pale and anxious. I think a glass of brandy would have been better for you than the lemonade you drank. lam no friend to the spirit ; but I think it would do you good, just now." " I'll have some directly, "he said. " Who's that Shutcr's talking to ? As I live, it's Mucklebody ! What a spectacle the man's made of himself !" And a curious spectacle the Scotchman certainly presented, as, evidently in jovial case, he stood talking and laughing in a manner that drew every eye in the neighbourhood pon him. " It's the royal tairtan, man 1" he was saying to Shuter. "Ma mither was a Stuart, ye ken, an' aae that gies me a kin' o' richt tae it." The royal tartan in question figured upon Air. Mucklebody's person in the capacity of a kilt, in front of which hung the usual sporran, , while between it and the short hose appeared that gentleman's , legs— lank, scraggy, redhaired, and ridiculous. His upper man jwas encased in a green velvet jacket, profusejy ornamented with silver buttons, and from the bonnet, which surmounted his grinning features, ascended'arr 1 eagle's feather of, portentous length. , Claymore, dirk, and pistol' he had also, and everything ,else proper!, to the Highland warrior, of .which he presented so ludicrous'a caricature! , ,» . Suddenly'cattchigg;sight of Walter, and myself, He"cam,e up xa with\, a $psy effusiveness?, whis procured; u^ such;a gftojfeuj of V^ifJm^iMf'M fitfp fck#sf sorry a.^mg^ triot m tlierdiB{ra^Mj|uj;|edj^f|, i|i^Bjpuit,j :Arid4oC«^B^Sf^^Wn^f;th^rading|

cnyv Kiowrt \v>Vh nheady assembled. Ilcic Mr. Crubher turned up again. , " No ; it ain't in him," he whispered to me, referring to King of the South, who had just been brought out, to form the chief centre of attraction. " Too much daylight under him, as I've always said ; and, besides, they've trained him too fine. He has, a tired look to my eye." But, to my less experienced view, the big bay looked all that could be desired, and. the animal to which Crusher now directed my attention had, I thought, more the look of a cross-country performer, than of a flat-racer. "That's the horse for my money!" said Crusher. "If they make the pace anyways hot from the beginnin', that's the little animal as'll do it !" And Tour-de-Force, as the horse was called, cci tainly did look like staying, whatever his turn of speed might have been. Dark brown in colour, and nearly a hand lower than the favourite, he stood, nevertheless, over as much ground, and had an ugly, but game-looking head, a deep girth, and short, flat legs. And now came the great event of the racing year. Walter had his brandy, and we made our way to the saddling-paddock, where an eager crowd was already assembled. Here Mr. Crusher turned up again. " No ; it, ain't in him," he whispered to me, refexring to " King of the South," who had just been brought out, to form the chief centre of attraction. Too much daylight under him, as I've always said ; and, besides, they've trained him too line. He has a tired look, to my eye." But, to my less experienced view, the big bay looked all that could be desired, and the animal to which Crusher now directed my attention had, I thought, more the look of a cross-country performer than of a flat-racer. "That's the horse for my money," said Crusher. "If they makes the j>ace anyways hot from the beginnin', that's the little animal as'll do it." And " Tour-de-Force," as the horse was called, iccrtainly did look like staying, whatever his turn of speed might have been. Dark brown in color, and nearly a hand lower than the favorite, he stood, nevertheless, over as much ground, and had an ugly, but gamelooking head, a deep girth, and short, flat legs. Then came Walter's wonderful horse; a bright chestnut, in magnificent condition, and looking, to the superficial observer, the very picture of a racehorse, but with a general look of want of power about him, that made me tremble for Walter's misplaced confidence. The preliminary canter is over, and the vast crowd settles itself once more to attention. A sharp squall sweeps over the course, and the horses are almost hidden by the gloom and .he driving rain, as they go down to the start-ing-point. But, as they are marshalled into place, the clouds break, and the sun lights up with sudden brilliance the long, undulating line of gay jackets and caps. Onee — twice— they start, only to be sent back into line again ; but, at the third attempt, a vast, many-throated murmur proclaims that they are off. The dull thunder of hoofs sounds nearer and nearer, and past the stand they come like a flying rainbow — flying too fast, I say to myself, for Isandula's chance. "By Joye — what a pace to begin at !" says a man near us. " That's Cataract leading ! What he's making play like that for, I can't think !" "Sent to make the running for his stablecompanion, Tour-de-Force, you may depend on it," answers another. liound the sweep ; the white jacket on Cataract still in the van, and half-a-dozen horses already tailing out" behind from the severity of the pace. " Blamed if this ain't a buster !" exclaimed Crusher. " It'll be • bellojvs-to-mend' with all but the stayers directly 1 There — Cataract's had enough of it, for one !" he adds, as the white jacket sipks back into the ruck, and the green-and-gold of the favourite takes the lead, only to be joined immmediately by a second white jacket on Tour-de-Force, and— yes !— by the purple-and-black of Isandula. " you seel" says Walter, grasping my arm hard, only to let it go again, with a muttered anathema, as his horse's short-lived effort comes to an end. The pace had been too good throughout for him, and, as they turn into the straight for home, I can see with my glass that the favorite has also had more than he likes of it. Still he leads, however, and, responding gallantly to his jockey's call upon him, draws away from the white jacket that has hitherto hung upon him like a leech, as a tremendous yell arises of "The King— the King!" But it is not to bo ; the white jacket works steadily up again ; for one breathlesb moment the King holds his own — then gives way once more — and a stentorian shout of " Tour-de-Force 1" rends the air, to be followed, the next instant, by another yell, as a big black horse challenges the beaten favorite, passes him, and draws up to the white jacket. - It is Dynamite, the second favorite. Up he comes — up and up — till the climax of excitement is reached, as the black and brown approach the winning-post neck and neck. " Dynamite ! Dynamite wins !" " No— Tour-dc-Foreo !"— and a culminating roar + goes up from fifty thousand throats as the brown horse begins to draw away from his antagonist. Half-a-head! — a head — a neck! inch by mch — till the post is passed, and Tour-de-Force has won by hali-a-le'ngth. " Tour-de-Force, first ; Dynamite, second ; King of the South, Third." So say the numbers ; and, taking Walter's arm in mine, I draw him away without a word.