1F3e&oino Bets 201 



the tightest pair of cotton cord breeches, and a pair 

 of brown-topped boots (the tops of which looked as 

 if they had been soft-soaped) ; but although his get- 

 up was eccentric, Nicholl was a hard nut to crack 

 when hounds were running, as he knew no fear, and 

 his little gray horse was not only a big jumper, but 

 as clever as a cat. I have rather over-run the line 

 here, so must hark back to my racing story. As 

 we were waiting: at the meet, one of the amateur 

 bookmakers rode past. He was got up, as usual, in 

 the very pink of fashion : scarlet coat, silk hat, the 

 best of breeches (leathers), and boots, all put on 

 properly — in fact, he looked as if he had come out 

 of a bandbox. Billy was not long noticing him, and 

 said in a loud voice to Harry Loy, another com- 

 mission agent who lived in Leicestershire : 



" Harry, see that cove there. That's 'Belladrum's ' 

 stable-lad. Bloomers looked after him all winter." 



It was quite infra dig. for anyone to mention 

 racing, at all events, this particular question, so he 

 rode up to Billy, and said : 



"Good-morning, Nicholl. You are quite mis- 

 taken about those bets I laid at Liverpool. They 

 were all hedging bets, I give you my word." 



Billy, without a moment's hesitation, turned round 

 and said : 



