"Why Not" 



"Why Not " was as fit as a fiddle that day, or 

 the tune would have been different. If we can 

 only nod approvingly when the band begins to 

 play! 



It is not necessary for me to give a minute 

 description of that exceptionally severe struggle 

 for the cross-country blue riband. Dry details 

 will be found in the usual chronicles of authority. 

 Suffice it to say that it was the hardest race I 

 ever rode in my life. Three-quarters of a mile 

 from home my chance did not seem to be rosy ; 

 ideas touching the possibility of defeat flashed 

 through my mind. I had then to begin " punch- 

 ing" my horse, though I had not been riding 

 him with the whip — that was left for a more 

 desperate crisis still to come. There were two 

 runners in front of me, namely, " Lady Helen," 

 ridden by " Terry " Kavanagh (who won the 

 "National" on "Manifesto"), and "Wild Man 

 from Borneo," with Mr "Joe" Widger in the 

 saddle. Was it possible for me to get up in 

 time to put paid to their respective accounts ? 

 We kept pegging away (that object in view) 

 with indomitable pluck ; and, answering gamely 

 to my calls, "Why Not" ran on as surely few 

 horses have ever done before, or — dare I say ? — 

 ever will again. There was still a chance. 



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