72 BRILLIANT HORSEMEN 



furlongs. He loved riding any sort of race ; 

 whether Derby winner or "selling plater," in 

 his iron grip it was coaxed, or more likely 

 punished, until he got it home, ridden hard the 

 whole way though with good judgment. The 

 profound contempt he appeared to hold his fellow- 

 creatures in was not entirely unprovoked. If 

 "Archer was up" on a complete outsider, whose 

 previous performances showed inferior form, it 

 did not prevent the public from backing the 

 idol ; it was the jockey they depended on, not 

 the horse, and the price shortened in a most 

 amazing manner. Love of applause, concealed 

 from the outer world by the careless look on his 

 face, a wounded vanity, and a most violent temper 

 often gave rise to exhibitions of unnecessary 

 severity. "Archer wins!" or "Archer's beat!" 

 might be heard all over the densely packed 

 stands. Then the great jockey would be seen 

 coming up the straight, sitting down in his saddle, 

 spurring and thrashing a beaten horse, the loud 

 cracks resounding yet again and again even after 

 the winning post had been passed. 



But those head finishes! Ah, how different 

 was the scene when the finest horseman in the 

 world had a mount worthy of his genius — for he 

 had genius ! When every inch was disputed by 

 jockeys who were his equals in many respects, 

 when a mass of bright silk, white breeches, and 

 glossy thoroughbreds rounded Tattenham Corner 

 "all of a heap," and Archer, hugging the white 

 rails from start to finish as was his wont, suddenly 

 shot out of the Derby group amidst yells for the 



