But Mr Juggins responded that he earnestly desired that Poojah should obtain said prize, and applied a rather severe whipsmack to his willing horse.
"My mare is the favourite, Juggins!" pleaded Mr Bhosh. "By defeating her you will land yourself in the bad odour of the oi polloi. Have you considered that, Juggins?"
Juggins's only reply was to administer more whip-smacks, but Chunder Bindabun persevered. "Consider my hard case, Juggins! If I am beaten, I lose both a placens uxor and the pot of money. If, on the other hand, I come in first at the head of the winning pole I promise to share my entire fortune with you!"
Upon this, the kind-hearted and venial equestrian relented, warmly protesting that he would rather be a proxime accessit and second fiddle than deprive another human being of all his earthly felicity, and accordingly he reined in his impetuous courser with such consummate skill that Milky Way forged ahead by the length of a nose.
Thus they galloped past the Grand Stand, and, as Mr Bhosh gazed upwards and descried the elegant form of the Princess Petunia standing upon the topmost roof, he was so exalted with jubilation that he elevated himself in his stirrups; and waving his cap in a chivalrous salute, cried out: "Hip-hip-hip! I am ramping in!"
"Then," I hear the reader exclaim, "it is all over, and Milky Way is victorious."
Please, my honble friend, do not be so premature! I have not said that the race was over. There are still some yards to the judge's bench, and it is always on the racing cards that Poojah may prove the winner after all.
Such inquisitive curiosity shall be duly satisfied in the next chapter, which is also the last.