"He's going to be a winner, is he?" asked Saltash, flicking the ash from his cigarette as he stood in the training-field with Jake.
"That depends how he's ridden, my lord," said Jake dryly. "He is a hot favourite."
"Pity you can't ride him yourself," observed Saltash, watching the Albatross with a critical eye as he cantered down the field. "Who is in the saddle? Not Vickers?"
"No. Vickers is incapacitated. I have put Stevens up. He seems keen for the chance, though I'm not so keen to give it him," Jake spoke with grimness.
"He ought to pull it off," said Saltash.
"He ought, my lord." Jake's tone lacked conviction notwithstanding.
Saltash turned. "What's the matter with the lad? You don't seem over enthusiastic about him."
Jake flicked at a clump of nettles with his riding-whip. "I've done my best to shape him, but he's a bit of a cur. The animals don't trust him."
Saltash uttered a careless laugh. "Oh, you always were an adept at reading the equine mind. Come along and show me the latest offspring! What was it you called him? The Hundredth Chance? A curious name to choose!"
Jake's grim face relaxed to a smile. "Oh, he's in the paddock along with his mother. He promises to be the most valuable animal in the Stables. He'll carry everything before him when the time comes."