d, and we began to get uneasy
ourselves, for fear that something might have happened to him or the
horse. About 8 or 9 to 1 was all we could get, and that we took over and
over again.

As the horses came up the straight, one after the other, having their
pipe-openers, you'd have thought no race had been run that week, to see
the interest all the people took in it. My word, Australia is a horsey
country, and no mistake. With the exception of Arabia, perhaps, as they
tell us about, I can't think as there's a country on the face of the
earth where the people's fonder of horses. From the time they're able to
walk, boys and girls, they're able to ride, and ride well. See the girls
jump on bare-backed, with nothing but a gunny-bag under 'em, and ride
over logs and stones, through scrub and forest, down gullies, or along
the side of a mountain. And a horse race, don't they love it? Wouldn't
they give their souls almost--and they do often enough--for a real
flyer, a thoroughbred, able to run away from everything in a country
race. The horse is a fatal animal to us natives, and many a man's ruin
starts from a bit of horse-flesh not honestly come by.

But our racing ain't going forward, and the day's passing fast. As I
said, everybody was looking at the horses--coming along with the rush
of the thoroughbred when he's 'on his top' for condition; his coat like
satin, and his legs like iron. There were lots of the bush girls on
horseback, and among them I soon picked out Maddie Barnes. She was
dressed in a handsome habit and hat. How she'd had time to put them on
since the wedding I couldn't make out, but women manage to dress faster
some times than others. She'd wasted no time anyhow.

She was mounted on a fine, tall, upstanding chestnut, and Joe Moreton
was riding alongside of her on a good-looking bay, togged out very
superior also. Maddie was in one of her larking humours, and gave Joe
quite enough to do to keep time with her.

'I don't see my horse here yet,' she says to Joe, loud enough for me to
hear; but she knew enough not to talk to me or pretend to know me. 'I
want to back him for a fiver. I hope that old Jacob hasn't gone wrong.'

'What do you call your horse?' says Joe. 'I didn't know your father had
one in this race.'

'No fear,' says Maddie; 'only this horse was exercised for a bit near
our place. He's a regular beauty, and there isn't a horse in this lot
fit to see the way he goes.'

'Who does he belong to?'