My First Steeple-chaser. 85 



same. On his sound days nothing could beat him, when Tom 

 chose to send him along for he was riding to orders, and never 

 took the horse through a whole run j and sometimes he would ap- 

 pear at the covert-side so lame that chaps began to wonder what 

 reason Tom had for persevering with such a screw. Still he was 

 now in rare condition, and as the stable had found out the secret 

 that, however lame he might start, he always managed to shake off 

 his lameness in about the first mile, and as he was a splendid fencer 

 and had a great turn of speed (for Tom had managed to get the 

 length with him of some of the best horses in the hunt), it began 

 to look quite on the cards that the much wished-for prize would 

 come home to these stables at last. Although part owner, I had 

 never got on the horse since the day I rode him home, bat I now 

 and then saw him out with the hounds j and one morning when I 

 rode home by his side, Tom informed me confidentially that he had 

 the cracks safe enough, and if the race was to be won by an 

 outsider, old Dot-and-Go-One would have it. 



In these hunt steeple-chases there is usually very little mystery, 

 and it is pretty well known months beforehand what horses will be 

 entered. In fact, the owners are generally proud of their horses, 

 and boast of what they are able to do, and, as they know they have 

 to meet nothing but what they have seen out many times before, 

 they have more confidence than in a great open race j in fact, these 

 steeple-chases used to differ not in the least from a usual run, save 

 that the men wore jackets instead of coats, and instead of choosing 

 their own line had to ride over a certain number of ordinary 

 hunting-fences between two flags. There was, however, on this 

 occasion, one horse which puzzled all the hunt, and this was the 

 screw. Of course Tom was as close as wax about him, and 

 all that his nearest friends could get out of him, when they 

 tried to work the pump, was, " I can't think whatever the old 

 fool (his uncle) means, by sticking to this screw for so long. I 

 never can see the end of a run on him, and if he goes ever so 

 sound for the first mile, he's sure to shut up before the end of 

 the second." But there were a few old hands who had watched 



