THE RETURN MATCH. 85 



apparently inferior race gave rise to more speculation than any 

 of those which had preceded it. There were five runners, but 

 only two were supported, as the learned in Turf lore phrased it, 

 ' for money,' Mr. Yarnold's bay horse Slider, and Mr. Winpenny's 

 four-year-old chestnut colt Crowfoot. 



As soon as the market steadied down — as the learned would 

 probably have said — it became obvious that, notwithstanding 

 the favour in which Crowfoot was locally held, the stranger 

 would remain first favourite. The Winpenny party were there- 

 fore enabled to back Crowfoot at an unexpectedly remunerative 

 price. 



Mr. Freeman is not in the ring when the numbers were put 

 up. Neither is Sir Thomas Acklam. Neither is Trenholm. Mr. 

 Freeman is wandering about in an aimless sort of way amongst 

 the luxuriant furze and bracken, which at the farther side of the 

 course forms a shaggy knoll, wherefrom a curious observer 

 armed with just such a telescope as that which he carries shut 

 up in his pocket, would be able to see what was going on at any 

 given part of the course, and be himself unobserved. The baro- 

 net is sauntering down with the official of the flag to look at 

 the start. His interest in such an inferior affair is incomprehen- 

 sible. This will be the second time he has taken stock of the 

 rough ' stob' (or stake) which does temporary service in that 

 furzy ferny hollow for a starting-post for the six furlongs. At 

 least one half of that end of the course is invisible from the 

 stand and judge's box. Trenholm is lying down, somewhere in 

 that neighbourhood, with his eyes fixed steadfastly on the ' stob.' 



The flag is dropped to a good start ; Sir Thomas Acklam 

 finds no fault with it, but immediatel}- follows the flying field at 

 his briskest pace ; and Slider wins. Everybody leaves the start- 

 ing-post and rushes towards the ring in time to note the cheers 

 of the Yarnold party suddenly subside at the words ' There is an 

 objection — don't pay !' 



No, not everybody. The starting-post is yet an object of 

 absorbing interest to unnamed actors in the little drama. Clcarl)- 

 observed by Mr. Freeman and Trenholm, too clearly it may be 

 for their after-comfort, are a couple of men, who, alternately 

 creeping and walking stoopingly, emerge from their ambush of 

 furze and withdraw the ' stob !' Returning to their cover, they 

 dive swiftly in and out until they arrive at the spot where this 

 rough piece of wood had originally stood. In a few seconds the 

 ' post' is replaced, and Black Yarnold's unscrupulous agents 



