326 WHO IS TO RIDE HIM ? 



eagerly grasp each other by the arm with a wild 

 convulsive clutch as the horses clear each obstacle. 

 Some stand stony and immovable, without the 

 slightest appearance of interest. Little is known 

 of the fearful beatings of their hearts under that 

 cold, calm exterior. 



" Here they come ! " said the crowd, as some 

 eight or ten horses make the turn for home. 



" Guardsman baked ! " shouts the ring, as the 

 horse is seen nearly last. 



" The Irish horse wins for a thousand," shouts 

 an over-excited speculator. 



" Done," says the sly-looking little man, and 

 again the metallics are at work. 



Lord Plunger looks on with a calm indifferent 

 demeanour. 



" By G — , Plunger," said one of George's old 

 messmates, with a scared countenance, " Braclon is 

 done. "We shall all drop finely." 



" Wait ! " was the quiet answer. 



The last hurdle but one is taken, which the Irish 

 horse jumps first ; but what a change has taken 

 place in the field ! Scarlet and white hoops, 

 instead of being nearly last, is hanging on the lead- 

 ing horse's quarters, and it is very patent to all 

 those skilled in racing matters that from the 

 manner Guardsman skimmed over the hurdle the 



