90 THE LIFE OF A EACEHORSE. 



tlie Litteriiess of my anguisli and solitude — for Toby had been 

 left behind — that not one, perhaps, of the many who might be 

 then exulting over their gains bestowed a single thought of 

 compassion for my ruin, ay, my ruin. 



I shall not dwell longer upon the treatment I received for 

 this permanent injury; but merely add that when I quitted 

 Newmarket to return to my training quarters at Epsom, some 

 three months afterwards, I had the straight lines of the cautery 

 branded upon my leg, and although I was no longer lame, yet 

 I knew full well how uncertain must be the result of my first 

 rattling gallop, and how doubtful it must be whether I should 

 ever be able to stand my training again. In the careless but 

 expressive language of grooms and stable-boys, I was " a screw," 

 and none knew it better than myself now. 



I was now among the four-year-olds. Had I continued 

 sound, there is no doubt that for the Metropolitan, for vdiich I 

 was nominated, my assigned weight would have been so heavy 

 as to leave but little chance of my being able to carry it in front 

 at the finish. It was patent, however, to the sporting world 

 that I had broken down as badly as I could — that I was thrown 

 for months completely out of work — and that if I saw the post 

 again within the year, it appeared barely possible that I should 

 do so before the close of the season instead of the be2;innini>'. 

 The causes influencing the opinions of others doubtless acted 

 upon the mind of the handicapper, and to escape the charge, 

 joerhaps, of uselessly placing an acknowledged screw among the 

 top weights, he considerately classed me among the middle ones, 

 and awarded 6st. 121b. as my burden. 



" He's veil in," said my owner, now beginning to lose the 

 right to the title of "new, very new," as he stood in my box 

 reading a long array of names from the "Eacing Calendar," 

 comprising the nominations for the Metropolitan: "very veil 

 in, Tom." 



" Yes," replied my trainer, making sure of the absence of an 

 objectionable third person, "his weight won't crush him." 



"Now, the question is," rejoined Slippery Mo, "viil his leg 

 stand, and can we prepare him in time ?" 



