164 The Harkaway Hunt Steeplechases. 



there is a fairish field — seven, eight, nine, ten runners 

 — capital ! Tinkle, tinkle, goes the saddling bell. 

 The voices of the betting men are heard from the ring. 

 '' I'll take odds ! " '' I'll take seven to four ! " '' Odds 

 I'll take" ''Will h'anyone back a outsider?" ''Won't 

 nobody back one ? " yells one fielder, as if in despair. 



There is a hottish favourite, seemingly, and it turns out 

 to be Mr. H. Walker's bay horse, Tipperary Joe, ridden 

 by Mr. Jack Tomkins, a well-known local performer. 

 Jack is a broken-down ne'er-do-weel. He has tried pretty 

 nearly everything by way of profession — farming, auc- 

 tioneering, horsedealing ; he has had a turn at them all, 

 but has failed, and now gets a living, nobody knows 

 exactly how. At all events, this is certain, at the present 

 moment he is entrusted with the mount on Tipperary Joe, 

 and as the horse is a good one, and he himself is a first- 

 rate horseman, the talent forthwith instal him a hot 

 favourite, and commencing at two to one, in a very short 

 time it is a case of odds on. In short, the public won't 

 hear of anything else but Tipperary Joe. But hark ! there 

 is a row in the ring. " What's it all about ? " Why, 

 old Shrub, who owns the second favourite, Betsy 

 Baker, is objecting to our friend Jack, as not being 

 a properly qualified gentleman rider. " He amt a 

 gentleman rider, I don't care what you say," says Mr. 

 Shrub, " and if he wins I objects, that's all, and what's 

 more," says the doughty landlord of the Daisyfield 

 Arms, " I objects to his starting." " Hooray ! Here's a 

 lark." " Refer it to the stewards," is the cry. " Here, 

 Mr. Wagg, what do you say?" 



"Jack not a gentleman rider! Oh, nonsense," says 

 Tom Wagg, thus appealed to. " I say he is a gentleman. 



