Croplady expressed regret that he wasn't able to
ride the horse he'd entered for the Heavy Weights.
"That infernal knee of mine went groggy again
while I was playing golf on Thursday. But I've got
'Boots' Brownrigg to ride him for me, so he ought
to be in the picture all right."
I gathered that "Boots" Brownrigg was in the
"Blues'3 and had "ridden a clinking good finish at the
Guards5 Meeting at Hawthorn Hill the other day55.
Brandwick told us that he'd asked Roger Pomfret
to ride his young horse. "He's a mutton-fisted
beggar; but the horse is a bit nappy, and young
Roger'll be the man to keep him going at his fences."
Every syllable they uttered made my own private
aspirations more preposterous and perishable: my
optimism was at a very low ebb as we plodded across a
wet pasture to the next obstacle, which had a wide
ditch on the take-off side.
"There's another place where there'll be trouble
for somebody!" Brand wick's jolly voice seemed to be
glorying in the prospect of horses refusing and riders
shooting up their necks, or even over their ears. He
turned to me. "Let's see, you're running that nice-
looking bay of yours, aren't you?"
I replied, "Yes, I'm having a ride."
Groplady became knowledgeable about the entries,
which had long been a subject for speculation between
Stephen and myself. "Quite a hot lot for the Heavy
Weights this year. Two of those Cavalry thrusters
who keep their nags in Dowafield. They're always
rather an unknown quantity."
Stephen remarked that the Colonel's Cup was well
worth winning, and Croplady agreed that it was a
much better pot than the Light Weight one, and must
have cost the old boy five-and-twenty quid at least.