78 TALES OF THE TURF AND THE CHASE. 



grown into a stayer. What was the use of entering a six- 

 furlong horse — as I ahvays believed him to be — ^for the Cup, 

 which happens to be as severe a mile-and-a-half course as you 

 will find in England ? Beetlewing will win.' 



' Yes, bar accidents,' said Sir Thomas Acklam. ' But tell us, 

 Winpenny, we shall see your colours displayed to-morrow or 

 next day on something ? I mean to show, although I have 

 nothing in my stable fast enough to beat a donkey.' 



' Run, yes !' replied Winpenny, filling himself another glass of 

 the wine that had never betrayed him. ' Yes, I shall run ; and 

 you must back me. Not you, Courtney,' continued he, address- 

 ing his broad-minded friend the parson, who shook his head and 

 smiled, ' because, as you know, the Church always stands in with 

 me — when I win.' 



This allusion to his own free-handedness elicited from the 

 reverend gentleman the remark, 



* The Church has no reason to complain, I am sure.' 

 Which naive admission augmented the merriment of the 



board. Mr. Winpenny continued : 



' The other day I ran Crowfoot at Ruddyford, and — ' 



' Won,' said Sir Thomas. 



' Yes, won ; and I will tell you how. There are reports of 

 the affair in Bell and the Siin, but they are inadequate. It was 

 a fifty-pound plate, and as I had been rather heavily hit at the 

 meeting, I thought to myself, this is just Crowfoot's distance, 

 and he shall earn his expenses and mine. Of course I told 

 Walton to get away and win ; and get away he did at score. 

 But there was another in the race — a horse called Slider — who 

 also came away, and for most of the journey was neck-and-neck 

 with Crowfoot. Indeed, we were beaten a furlong from home. 

 From that point mine came on, and won by half a length.' 



' But what has all that to do with Redmarshall ?' inquired 

 Mr. Freeman. 



* I will tell you,' rejoined Winpenny. ' I was too far off to 

 notice it ; but when I was assisting Walton off with the saddle 

 to weigh-in, he informed me that Slider's jockey had bored him 

 all the way, and they were going to claim the race on the ground 

 of foul riding. Sure enough they did. For once, however, they 

 reckoned without their host. The Ruddyford stewards believed 

 my jockey, and taking a proper view of the other evidence — I 

 never heard such skilful hands at misrepresentation in my life — 

 gave me the race. Walton told me afterwards that their jockey> 



