ster of the glories of
the old stable--what races it had run and what stakes it had won.

The storm passed during the night, and the sun rose next morning clear
and bright. One horse, at least, that was entered for the big race was
well cared for. Robin had slept in his stall, and his young master had
had his room. They had become great friends, and the young man had told
the old trainer of his hopes. If he won he would have enough to send his
sister off to school in the city, and he would go to college. Robin had
entered into it heart and soul, and had given the boy all the advice he
could hold.

Robin was up by light, looking after the horse; and the young owner,
after waiting long enough to take another lesson in the proper handling
of a horse about to run, excused himself, and, leaving the horse with
the old trainer, went out, he said, "to exercise for his wind." This
was a long walk; but the young rider's walk took him now, not along
the track or the road, but along the steeplechase course, marked by the
hurdles; and though the ground was wet and soggy on the flat, and in
some places the water still stood, he appeared not to mind it in the
least. So far from avoiding the pools, he plunged straight through them,
walking backward and forward, testing the ground, and at every "jump" he
made a particular examination.

When he returned to the stable he was as wet as a "drowned rat," but he
looked well satisfied, and the old trainer, after he had talked with him
a few minutes, was satisfied also.

"Dat boy 's he gran'pa's gran'chile," he muttered, well pleased with his
account.

III

The crowd that assembled at the course that afternoon was enough to fill
the hearts of the management with joy, if a management has hearts. When
the first race was called, the stands and paddocks were already filled,
and the road was crowded with vehicles as far as the eye could see. The
club and club-paddock filled later, as is the way with fashionable folk;
but when the second race was called, these, too, were packed, and they
looked, with the gay dresses of the throng that filled every foot of
space, like great banks of flowers, while the noise that floated ont
sounded like the hum of a vast swarm of bees.

The great race of the day was the fourth on the programme, and all
minds were fastened on it, the interest in the other races being merely
perfunctory.

Before the big event the paddock was thronged with those who came