CAPTAIX BLEATEIVS COUP. 13 



He does not trail horses up and down the country for 

 pleasure." 



" Where is Captain Bloater's horse, Tom ? " says Foswith, 

 as that worthy reappears from the stable. 



" No 9, sir. Padlock on the door, sir, and Captain's 

 man got the key. Rum chap, 'is man, sir, very. Says they 

 don't know much about racin' in the south, so come to see 

 how they do it 'ere. Says he believes Tom Bowling ran in a 

 'ansum before the Capting bought 'im. Won't let yer go 

 nigh 'is 'oss, though, sir." 



They then catch sight of Dawson, Foswith's groom, so 

 move off to inspect the horse in his care, before making their 

 way to the course. George has entered his thoroughbred 

 mare. The Gaiety Girl, for the Open Steeplechase, and a good- 

 looking chestnut she is, with galloping quarters, sloping 

 shoulders and a rare back and loins; a splendid type of the 

 blood hunter, in fact, and good enough for a local steeple- 

 chase, though by no means a Grand National horse. 



Having given the necessary directions as to the time the 

 mare is to be brought down, the two wend their way to the 

 pretty little course, just outside the town, now in a great state 

 of preparatory bustle for the first race. The primitive stand, 

 with its dressing and weighing rooms in the rear, is already 

 beginning to fill, for the bell has gone for the race, and the 

 scarlet-coated hunt servants are clearing the course; so they 

 enter the private portion reserved for local magnates and 

 their friends in time to see the horses canter down. It is a 

 bright and animated scene. On their left are the luncheon 

 and refreshment marquees, gay with flags. The paddock is all 

 but deserted now, save for the sheeted thoroughbreds and 

 their attendants ; but the ring is still full of business, for the 

 loud-voiced "pencillers" and their clients are making final 

 investments before securing a coign of vantage from which to 

 vie^v the race. Just over the rails are their more noisy and 



