THE HUMOURS OF THE RACECOURSE 



99 



got tlie better of his rider, and is taking him down 

 to the sea as fast as he can : it is my friend in the 

 scarlet jacket. The rest are coming along close 

 behind me, Debenham holding hard in the rear, 

 Toprail (not Topsail, as in the card) pulling double. 

 As I ease my horse, and steady him for the second 

 jump, the Mossoo with the large amount of scarlet 

 stocking rushes past me ; over he goes, lands on his 

 horse's ears, then again back on his tail, and finally 

 finds himself in the pigskin again. During this 

 little performance I had swept by him. 



" Yous ne pouvez pas gagner, mon cher ! " he 

 shouts, as he rushes past me again. 



" Nous verrons," I muttered, as I took another 

 pull at my horse, and eased him again at the third 

 hurdle. "No use trying to cut you down," I 

 thought, as I saw him whipping and spurring away ; 

 "you'll do that yourself, my boy, and pretty soon 

 too." He would have pumped a steam-engine. 



' The turn is made for home. We run out a 

 little, but the nags are righted and set going again. 

 I now made the pace a rattler, as I found I could 

 not shake off my French friend, who stuck like a 

 leech to me. The first hurdle on returninof is 

 approached. I send Saltfish at it ; over we go. I 

 turn again, and there is my French friend close by 

 me. Debenham has crept up to the third place ; 

 the blue-striped-stocking gentleman is whipping, 



H 2 



