CHAPTER XII 



ERE is another little story anent the amiable 

 and admirable Weasel (in conjunction 

 with another of my '* gees ") which forms, 

 I trust, a not uninteresting item in my 

 string of personal narratives. 



The scene is laid in the billiard-room of " The 

 Crown '* (I think that is the name of the leading 

 hostelry) at Derby. Ben Cooper and Alf Savill are 

 trying conclusions at a friendly " hundred up.'' Enter 

 your Uncle Cockie, who proceeds to watch the enter- 

 tainment. On its conclusion Ben addresses me : 



" Going to have a ride to-morrow, Capting ? '* 



" Why yes, I have a gee of sorts in The Boden 

 Eccentric.'* 



" Rum sort of race ain't it ? " 



" Yes, it is for horses regularly ridden to hounds 

 during the season. There will be a pretty big field, 

 too, from all I hear." 



" Have you found the pea ? " this from Savill. 



*' Not I. I expect you knights of the pencil will 



set your market according to the riders, eh ? " 



'* In which case, sir, you are sure to be favourite ? " 



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