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wake of the starter, a burly, jovial-faced man on a
stumpy grey cob.
"Having a ride to-day, sir?" asked a cadaverous
blue-chinned individual, who might have been either
a groom or a horse-dealer. Rather taken aback by
this complimentary inquiry, I replied with a modest
"I see your brother's riding Colonel Hesmon's old
'oss in the 'Eavy Weights. He might run well in this
deep going," he continued.
I did not disclaim the enigmatic relationship, and
he lowered his voice secretively. "I'm putting a bit
on Captain Reynard's roan for this race! I've heard
that he's very hot stuff." And with a cunning and
confidential nod he elbowed his way toward the line
of bookmakers, who were now doing a last brisk little
turn of business before the destination of the Light
Weight Cup was decided over "Three and a half
miles of fair hunting country".
The card informed me that Lieut.-Col. C. M. F.
Hesmon's Jerry was to be ridden by Mr. S. Colwood.
"It can't be Stephen Colwood, can it?" I thought,
visualizing a quiet, slender boy with very large hands
and feet, who had come to my House at Ballboro'
about two years after I went there. Now I came to
think of it his father had been a parson somewhere in
Sussex, but this did not seem to make it any likelier
that he should be riding in a race.
At any rate, I wanted to see this Colwood, for
whose brother I had been mistaken, and after the
next race I walked boldly into the paddock to see the
horses being saddled for the Heavy Weights. There
were only five of them, and none of the five looked
like going very fast, though all were obviously capable
of carrying fourteen stone on their backs. But since