e would go out together, and "have a punt" on some of Bill's
ponies, or on somebody else's ponies--the latter for choice. But
periodical punts and occasional sales of horses would not keep the wolf
from the door. Ponies keep on eating whether they are winning or not and
Blinky Bill had got down to the very last pitch of desperation when he
saw the advertisement mentioned at the end of last chapter.

It was like a ray of hope to him. At once there flashed upon him what he
must do.

He must make a great sacrifice; he must sell Sausage II.

Sausage II. was the greatest thirteen-two pony of the day. Time and
again he had gone out to race when, to use William's own words, it was
a blue duck for Bill's chance of keeping afloat; and every time did the
gallant race pony pull his owner through.

Bill owed more to Sausage II. than he owed to his creditors.

Brought up as a pet, the little animal was absolutely trustworthy. He
would carry a lady or a child, or pull a sulky; in fact, it was quite
a common thing for Blinky Bill to drive him in a sulky to a country
meeting and look about him for a likely "mark". If he could find a fleet
youth with a reputedly fast pony, Bill would offer to "pull the little
cuddy out of the sulky and run yer for a fiver." Sometimes he got
beaten; but as he never paid, that didn't matter. He did not believe in
fighting; but he would always sooner fight than pay.

But all these devices had left him on his uppers in the end. He had
no feed for his ponies, and no money to buy it; the corn merchant had
written his account off as bad, and had no desire to make it worse.
Under the circumstances, what was he to do? Sausage II. must be sold.

With heavy heart Bill led the pony down to be inspected. He saw Mr.
Algernon de Montgomery Smythers, and measured him with his eye. He saw
it would be no use to talk about racing to him, so he went on the other
track.

He told him that the pony belonged to a Methodist clergyman, who used to
drive him in a "shay". There are no shays in this country; but Bill had
read the word somewhere, and thought it sounded respectable. "Yus, sir,"
he said, "'e goes lovely in a shay," and he was just starting off at
twenty words a second, when he was stopped.

Mr. A. de M. Smythers was brusque with his inferiors, and in this he
made a mistake. Instead of listening to all that Blinky Bill said, and
disbelieving it at his leisure, he stopped his talk.

"If you want to sell this