98 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER 



One showed a large amount of scarlet stocking be- 

 tween the boot and his breeches ; whilst another, 

 determined not to be outdone, displayed an equal 

 quantity of loud blue and white. Of the caps and 

 jackets I will say nothing; they were in perfect 

 keeping with the boots and breeches. One gentle- 

 man in a splendid scarlet jacket was standing 

 against the weighing-stand, with a bottle of smell- 

 ing-salts to his nose ; and on my asking him what 

 was the matter was he ill? he replied in pretty 

 good English, " No, monsieur ; but I feels an emo- 

 ti-on a leetle faints. Anglaish sport smens are more 

 use to de hurdles-race. Mon Dieu ! but it will be 

 runs fast to-day." 



' At last we are mounted ; the bell has rung for 

 the last time; our preparatory canters have been 

 taken, and we are in line. The polite Sous-Prefet 

 is coming round to us, hat in hand, asking us to 

 draw for our places, which we do, and change accord- 

 ingly. Now all is in readiness. " Etes-vous prets, 

 messieurs?" shouts the starter, flag in hand. 

 " Allez ! " 



' We are off like a shot, I cutting out the running 

 at a tremendous pace. My horse threw up the hard 

 sand in a manner that could not have been very 

 pleasant to those in the immediate vicinity. The 

 pace was hot. I lift my horse at the first hurdle, 

 and pop him over, and turn my head to see how it is 

 with the others. All over safe ; but one horse has 



