1. Remember that many riders beat themselves by over-eagerness.
Well--let 'em, Barnabas.
2. Don't rush your fences, give your mount time, and steady him
about twenty yards from the jump.
3. Remember that a balking horse generally swerves to the left,
Barnabas.
4. Keep your eye open for the best take-offs and landings.
5. Gauge your payce, save your horse for raycing at finish.
6. Remember it's the last half-mile as counts, Barnabas.
7. So keep your spurs till they 're needed, my lad.
A rayce, Barnabas lad, is very like a fight, after all. Given a good
horse it's the man with judgment and cool head as generally wins. So,
Barnabas, keep your temper. This is all I have to say, or your father,
only that no matter how near you come to turning yourself into a
fine gentleman, we have faith as it won't spoil you, and that you
may come a-walking into the old 'Hound' one of these days just the
same dear Barnabas as we shall always love and remember.
Signed: NATL. BELL.
GON BARTY.
Now, as he conned over these words of Natty Bell, a hand was laid
upon his shoulder, and, glancing round, he beheld the Viscount in
all the bravery of scarlet hunting frock, of snowy buckskins and
spurred boots, a little paler than usual, perhaps, but as gallant a
figure as need be.
"What, Bev!" he exclaimed, "not dressed yet?"
"Why I've only just woke up, Dick!"
"Woke up! D' you mean to say you've actually--been asleep?" demanded
the Viscount reproachfully. "Gad! what a devilish cold-blooded fish
you are, Bev! Haven't closed a peeper all night, myself. Couldn't,
y' know, what with one deuced thing or another. So I got up, hours
ago, went and looked at the horses. Found your man Martin on guard
with a loaded pistol in each pocket, y' know,--deuced trustworthy
fellow. The horses couldn't look better, Bev. Egad! I believe they
know to-day is--the day! There's your 'Terror' pawing and fidgeting,
and 'Moonraker' stamping and quivering--"
"But how is your arm, Dick?"
"Arm?" said the Viscount innocently. "Oh,--ah, to be sure,--thanks,
couldn't be better, considering."
"Are you--quite sure?" persisted Barnabas, aware of the Viscount's
haggard cheek and feverish eye.
"Quite, Bev, quite,--behold! feel!" and doubling his fist, he smote
Barnabas a playful blow in the ribs. "Oh, my dear fellow, it's
going to be a grand race though,--ding-dong to the finish! And it's
dry, thank heaven, for 'Moonraker''s no mud-horse. But I shall be
glad when we line up for the start, Bev."
"In about--four hours, Dick."
"Yes! Devilish long time till eleven o'clock!" sighed the Viscount,
seating himself upon the bed and swinging his spurred heels
petulantly to and fro. "And I hate to be kept waiting, Bev--egad, I
do!"