CHASING AND RACING 207 



An old jockey, of transcendent fame in his day, lay 

 dying. He sent for his son, a promising apprentice 

 attached to a " fashionable " stable. 



" Robbie, my lad," he said in a feeble voice, *' my 

 number's up. I can't keep out of the way of the 

 black horse. He's at my girths — I'm beat to blazes ; 

 but before I weigh in I want to give you a word of 

 advice. It is, never speak to another jockey in a race I I 

 did once, and once only, and have regretted it ever 

 since. It was this way, sonnie. Me and Jimmy 

 Bowster was out by ourselves in a mile and a half race 

 at Ally Pally ; rest of the field strung out and off the 

 map. As we comes round the bend for home the 

 last time I shouts, * Go on, Jimmy, / ain^t a spinnin ! ' 

 * The 'ell you ain't ! ' he sings out. * No more ain*t 

 /,' and off he falls ^ leavin' me to come 'ome all on me 

 lonesome 1 " 



