ille, who had
kindly undertaken to supervise their training. As the result of trials
Creamie proved much the faster. Not only that, but she started breaking
watch-records. The day of the races came. I had promised Allen Baker, the
Master of the Hounds, to have the mount on Creamie. A real good
sportsman, Stephen Ralli, was to ride Kitty. I was too heavy myself to
tackle the weights. Creamie was made favourite at even money. Kitty
started at 20 to 1. Off they went to the post. I think Lance Stirling was
starter. There were about eighteen starters. Creamie was next but two to
the rails. I had backed her for quite a lot of money, and had told all my
friends that I could not see what other pony could beat her. They all put
their money on. I had not a sixpence on Kitty. Well, down went the flag.
I was in the grand stand with my glasses fixed on the starting point. The
first thing I saw was one of the riders turning a somersault in the air.
It was Allen Baker. I of course at once lost all interest in the race. I
put down my glasses. Down the course came Creamie leading the field
riderless. Then I heard the shouting: "Kitty! Kitty wins!" and before I
realized it, she had won. Yes, Stephen Ralli had won the cup on Kitty for
me. I had lost L300.

My recollections of the introduction of cash betting, as opposed to the
system of booking bets "on the nod" in the betting ring on Australian
race-courses, are as follows: Not long after my first appointment in
Adelaide the annual big racing meeting was held by the Adelaide Racing
Club at their course in the park lands, east of the city. Large numbers
of the best-known bookmakers from the other colonies were as usual in
attendance. Their voices were hardly what could be called musical. As a
rule each one gave his own voice some peculiar note, so that their
would-be clients could spot their whereabouts in the ring. The result of
this chorus was unique as a musical phenomenon.

I think it was the Cup Day. It was fine overhead and hot, yet a charming
day. The race for the Cup was next, and the ring was settling down to
business. Suddenly, amidst the general uproar, a fine-sounding voice,
true and melodious, was heard intoning what at first sounded to most
people a church hymn. But it was not a church hymn. It was a new method
of shouting out the odds, attracting attention to an exceedingly
well-got-up gentleman in a grey frock suit, patent leather boots, white
spats, grey gloves, tall whi