74 THE LIFE OF A EACEHORSE. 



be more deadly certain in adding to the gains, disgraceful as nn- 

 questionablv were the means of John Sellusall, and the select 

 few concerned in carrying out the plot. Our trainer had settled 

 with my jockey that I should be "roped," or in other words 

 " pulled," and consequently the event was no longer a matter of 

 uncertainty to them. They had resolved upon turning my pre- 

 determined loss to their own profit, or insuring an advantage 

 devoid of the smallest possible risk ; and with such opportunities 

 and with such men, the surprise need not be great that the race, 

 indeed, is not always to the swift. 



The important event of the North was now close at hand. 

 On the day previous to my leaving ISTewmarket, Sir Digby, ac- 

 companied by John Sellusall, entered my box, and, to an order 

 given by the latter, my clothes were stripped off by Harry Dale, 

 and I stood before my owner in all the pride of beauty, health, 

 and strength ; but the darkness of my life was gathering around 

 — it had stolen into my heart, and it was sad. 



" Why, he's half a stone better than when I last saw him, 

 John," observed Sir Digby with a bright smile, like a ray of sun- 

 shine, spreading over his handsome features from ]ip to brow. 



" Do you think so. Sir Digby ?" responded our trainer, and 

 the parenthesis became strongly lined as he drevr back the 

 corners of his mouth, and peered sideways at his master with 

 feelings, I suspect, of no enviable nature. " Do you think so, 

 Sir Digby?" repeated he. 



"Indeed I do," emphatically rejoined the baronet. "The 

 horse appears to be in a much improved form. I like his barrel 

 better, as, without being too fleshy, it gives me the impression of 

 increase of strength." 



" I am glad, Sir Digby, that his condition meets with your 

 approval," returned our trainer. 



" It is all we could desire, all that your skill, John, could 

 make him," added Sir Digby, with increased pleasure and confi- 

 dence, as he stood with his arms folded across his breast, like an 

 enthusiastic painter gazing at some exquisite production of his art. 



" But we should recollect, sir," remarked John Sellusall, as 

 perhaps his conscience pricked him for his treachery, " that the 



