50 THE LIFE OF A RACEHORSE. 



tend with, tliere were two who jumped off with a lead at an 

 extraordinary pace ; and, as the course to be run over was only 

 5 furlongs, 182 yards, they threatened to cut the rest down 

 before a chance presented itself of getting to their heads. 

 When, however, I became settled in my stride, I felt the 

 exultation of seeing that I was reaching them with ease ; and 

 upon placing myself parallel with their heads, I found, not- 

 withstanding the vigorous effort they made to go in front of 

 me, that I could quit them when and how I pleased. Another 

 instant, and I drew myself clear of the cutters-out of the work, 

 and, shaking them off, galloped in, hard held, the easiest winner 

 of the Criterion Stakes on record. 



There was no shouting at my victory — no whirling of hats 

 in the air j but, as I was pulled up, Kobert Top stood by my 

 side, and the warm glow of pleasure deepening the tinge of 

 health upon his features, evinced the unbounded delight he felt 

 at my triumph, although so silently expressed. As my rider 

 dismounted to return to scale, my head was taken hold of by 

 our trainer, the saddle hastily lifted from my back, and SjDanky 

 and Harry Dale, with united cheerfulness and alacrity, com- 

 menced the usual practice of scraping, rubbing, and " bottle- 

 holding," which forms the concluding scene in " the national 

 sport of a great and free people." 



" I'll back Sheet Anchor for the Derby," cried a voice, 

 which I at once recognised as Sir Digby's. 



" I'll lay fifteen to one against him," responded a round 

 better, whose position on the turf may well be reckoned among 

 the proofs of facts being stranger than the wildest fiction. 



" To a thousand, then ! " rejoined my owner. 



The "great bookmaker," with his dark, searching eyes, 

 entered the bet without making an observation, and as he 

 completed the brief but important memorandum that he 

 hazarded fifteen thousand in those few marks, he shouted at 

 the pitch of his stentorian lungs that " he would lay against 

 iSheet Anchor for the Derby." 



" I'll do it again ! " returned the baronet. 



The pencils were once moi'e at work for a few seconds, and 



