“Ah, you see,” said Beecher, “you got it 'all hot,' as they say. You 're not an unprejudiced juryman. They gave you a bucketing,—I heard all about it. If Corporal Trim had n't been doctored, you 'd have won twelve thousand at Lancaster.”
Conway smiled good-humoredly at the explanation thus suggested, but said nothing.
“Bother it for racing,” said Kellett “I never knew any real taste for horses or riding where there was races. Instead of caring for a fine, showy beast, a little thick in the shoulder, square in the joints, and strong in the haunch, they run upon things like greyhounds, all drawn up behind and low before; it's a downright misery to mount one of them.”
“But it's a real pleasure to see him come in first, when your book tells you seven to one in your favor. Talk of sensations,” said he, enthusiastically; “where is there the equal of that you feel when the orange and blue you have backed with a heavy pot comes pelting round the corner, followed by two,—then three,—all punishing, your own fellow holding on beautifully, with one eye a little thrown backward to see what's coming, and that quiet, calm look about the mouth that says, 'I have it.' Every note of the wild cheer that greets the winner is applause to your own heart; that deafening yell is your own song of triumph.”
“Listen to him!—that 's his hobby,” cried Kellett, whose eyes glistened with excitement at the description, and who really felt an honest admiration for the describer. “Ah, Beecher, my boy!—you 're at home there.”
“If they 'd only give me a chance, Paul,—one chance!”
Whether it was that the expression was new and strange to him, or that the energy of the speaker astonished him, but Conway certainly turned his eyes towards him in some surprise; a sentiment which Beecher at once interpreting as interest, went on,—
“You,” said he,—“you had many a chance; I never had one. You might have let them all in, you might have landed them all—so they tell me, at least—if you'd have withdrawn Eyetooth. He was own brother to Aurelius, and sure to win. Well, if you 'd have withdrawn him for the Bexley, you'd have netted fifty thousand. Grog—I mean a fellow 'well up' among the legs—told me so.”
“Your informant never added what every gentleman in England would have said of me next day,” said Conway. “It would have been neither more nor less than a swindle. The horse was in perfect health and top condition,—why should I not have run him?”
“For no other reason that I know, except that you 'd have been richer by fifty thousand for not doing it.”