166 EXPERIENCES OF SPORT. 



The turn is made for home. We run out a 

 little, but the nags are righted and set going 

 again. I now made the pace a rattler, as I 

 found I could not shake off my French friend, 

 who stuck like a leech to me. 



The first hurdle on returning is approached. 

 I send Saltfish at it. Over we go. I turn 

 again, and there is my French friend close by 

 me. Debenham has crept up and taken the 

 third place ; the blue-striped stocking gentle- 

 man is whipping, spurring, and screaming in the 

 rear, like a Bed Indian in his war paint, with 

 as much chance of coming up with us as he has 

 of flying. 



The second hurdle is taken, my horse going 

 well under me, and I am making but little use of 

 him as yet. The third and last is close by us. 

 I hear shouts from the crowd, " Blue wins, Blue 

 wins!" " My God, he's killed 1" " Sacre /" &c. 

 I have no time to look to see what is the 

 matter ; Debenham is on my whip hand. 



".Send him along, old fellow," he says, "and 

 make a race of it." 



I do so catch my horse well by the head, sit 

 back, and send the Latchfords home. Crack a , 



