a time.

"Good Heavens!" I said, "that's a poor game. Wouldn't you be better back
on the station?"

"Oh, I don't know--sometimes we get laid a bit to nothing, and do well
out of a race. And then, you know, a steeplechase rider is somebody--not
like an ordinary fellow that is just working."

I realised that I was an "ordinary fellow who was just working", and
felt small accordingly.

"I'm just off to weigh now," he said--"I'm riding Contractor, and he'll
run well, but he always seems to fall at those logs. Still, I ought to
have luck to-day. I met a hearse as I was coming out. I'll get him over
the fences, somehow."

"Do you think it lucky, then, to meet a hearse?"

"Oh, yes," he said, "if you _meet_ it. You mustn't overtake it--that's
unlucky. So is a cross-eyed man unlucky. Cross-eyed men ought to be kept
off racecourses."

He reappeared clad in his racing rig, and we set off to see the horse
saddled. We found the owner in a great state of excitement. It seemed he
had no money--absolutely none whatever--but had borrowed enough to pay
the sweepstakes, and stood to make something if the horse won and lose
nothing if he lost, as he had nothing to lose. My friend insisted on
being paid two pounds before he would mount, and the owner nearly had a
fit in his efforts to persuade him to ride on credit. At last a backer
of the horse agreed to pay 2 pounds 10s., win or lose, and the rider was
to get 25 pounds out of the prize if he won. So up he got; and as he and
the others walked the big muscular horses round the ring, nodding gaily
to friends in the crowd, I thought of the gladiators going out to fight
in the arena with the cry of "Hail, Caesar, those about to die salute
thee!"

The story of the race is soon told. My friend went to the front at the
start and led nearly all the way, and "Contractor!" was on every one's
lips as the big horse sailed along in front of his field. He came at the
log-fence full of running, and it looked certain that he would get over.
But at the last stride he seemed to falter, then plunged right into the
fence, striking it with his chest, and, turning right over, landed on
his unfortunate rider.

A crowd clustered round and hid horse and rider from view, and I ran
down to the casualty-room to meet him when the ambulance came in. The
limp form was carefully taken out and laid on a stretcher while a doctor
examined the crushed ribs, the broken arm, and all the havoc that the
horse's huge