142 CHASING AND RACING 



pulled Weasel back, lying at the girths of an animal 

 ridden by Roddy Owen, and backed only for that 

 reason. Two " light weights," one of which was in 

 the hands of Guy Fenwick — I forget about the other — 

 which must have been veritable mud larks, were going 

 for all they were worth, and soon opened up a gap of 

 at least fifty yards between themselves and Burton who, 

 in turn, was some five lengths ahead of the next batch, 

 which included Roddy and myself. We had been 

 having a friendly chat and paying but scant attention to 

 the leaders, but now it suddenly dawned upon my 

 companion, that instead of their coming back to us, 

 we were dropping further astern, and we were now 

 close on the final bend. 



" I say, Cockie,*' shouted Owen, ** if you want to 

 win this race you had better get a move on. Mine is 

 as dead as a door nail." 



As long as Weasel was up to his hocks in clay he 

 refused to accelerate his pace ; but happily we struck 

 a sounder patch on the bend. By the time we were 

 round it we had caught and passed Burton ; but there 

 were the two outsiders playing mutual cut throat 

 nearly loo yards ahead, and only 4^ furlongs to go ! 

 I now became aware of a little figure in a frock coat, 

 tall hat, white shirt, and black bow tie, which looked like 

 the impersonation of a methodist parson or a Pussy- 

 foot protagonist. It was dancing and gesticulating 

 wildly. 



" Go on ! Go on, Guv'nor — for the love of 



