98 My First Steeple-chaser, 



the task of steering him, and, as the journey was long, the old horse 

 started about ten days before the race, in charge of Mr. Snaffle's 

 head lad on a mule, for we had no railroad conveyance direct at 

 that time, and we could hardly stand the expense of a van with 

 posters. He reached the little town about three days before the 

 race, and when he took gentle exercise on the racecourse the morn- 

 ing after hi:; arrival, was observed by more than one lynx-eye, who 

 was watching him, to go a little lame. 



The race was fixed for the Wednesday, and it was agreed that 

 our party should take the night coach up to London on the Satur- 

 day night, and reach Bidefordcomfortably by the Tuesday morning. 

 The old horse travelled across the country, and in less than half the 

 distance. On the Saturday our hounds met at Waverley Wood, 

 and Tom rode over to meet them on another ^''casualty nag,'* 

 which my old friend had lately picked up cheap. He was not a 

 bad topped horse, and perhaps less of a screw than the generality 

 of horses that came into these stables, but he was a vicious, hard- 

 mouthed brute, a regular "mistechst" devil, as old Sam used to 

 observe (I never could define this mysterious word), who could do 

 almost anything he liked when in the humour, but, if he were not, 

 was just as likely to take the bit between his teeth and walk through 

 a gate, or flight of rails, without rising at them. We were to start 

 at eight to meet the up night-coach on the north road, and Tom 

 promised not to do more than just to show the horse the hounds and be 

 home to dinner (which always on hunting days consisted of a beef- 

 steak pudding) by two. I never saw him in such high spirits before. 

 He was in rare condition, and just the steeple-chase weight to a pound. 

 He quite longed to meet some of the cracks, and inwardly hoped that 

 he might be able to turn the tables on the Grey this time. During my 

 connexion with this steeple-chase horse, I had been brought much 

 into contact with Tom. I had come to know him better, and the 

 more I knew him the more I liked him. Under a rough exterior 

 and the veil of wild reckless manner, there was a vein of simple, 

 warm-hearted kindness running through his character which atoned 

 for marvy a faulty and when, in his calm moments, I could draw 



