“T O keep a light but steady hand on him; to be careful not to pull at him or check him with the curb; but to saw his mouth with the snaffle, if he can’t be held without; never to hit him, upon any consideration, by reason that he’ll stand the spur, but not the whip; to be prepared for his knocking my brains out when he throws up his head, or breaking my back by a way he’s got with his hind-quarters when he flings up his heels; to look out for his pleasant little trick of jumping off the ground all four feet at once in a slantindicular direction, when anything surprises him; to let him take his leaps in his own fashion, or he’ll either rush at them or refuse them altogether; to jump on his back before he bites or kicks me, if I can possibly do so; and, above all, to show him, from first to last, that I’m not in the slightest degree afraid of him—I think these are the chief points to which I am advised to direct my attention in riding the fascinating quadruped on whom you have invested your capital,” observed Coverdale to Lord Alfred, as they cantered back to the race-ground.
“You shall not do it—you must not think of it!” rejoined Lord Alfred, hastily; “you’ll be thrown and killed, and Mrs. Coverdale will say it’s my doing. I could not bear it—it would drive me mad. Come, promise you’ll give it up!”
“Silly boy!” returned Coverdale, with a good-natured smile “tell me, would you give it up in my position?”
“Well, yes—no, perhaps I should not; but then you know the case would be a very different one.”
“Certainly it would,” returned Coverdale; “I am not the heir to an ancient peerage—the noble constitution of England would not suffer injury in one of its three notable estates, if my neck were broken; but I don’t see the necessity for pre-supposing any such sombre contingency—this is not the first time, by many, that I’ve galloped a queer horse across country. Why, man, from the day I was fourteen I’ve broken all my own hunters, and let me tell you, a hot-tempered four-year-old thorough-bred is rather an awkward customer to deal with. A timid old gentleman would find himself decidedly misplaced astride such a quadruped. But here we are. Now recollect, keep up a bold exterior, as the melodramatic gents paraphrase ‘never saying die.’ Back the Don as freely as if Tirrett was going to ride for you, and mention me as the illustrious gentleman-jockey you have secured as his substitute.”
Lord Alfred nodded assent, and they rejoined the group around the betting-ring, in the centre of which stood the gallant Milesian, Captain O’Brien, vociferating loudly in what he would himself have termed a thundering rage. The cause was soon discovered: Mr. Philip Tirrett had, five minutes before, made his appearance on the course, and coolly informed the captain not only that he was mistaken in supposing he intended to ride for him, but that he was going to perform the service for Captain Annesley, of Her Majesty’s Life Guards, upon his famous steeple-chaser Black Eagle, which, in his poor opinion, looked very like a winner. As Lord Alfred and Harry came up, the Honourable Billy Whipcord, who, so to speak, lived upon horseflesh, and having a tolerably heavy book on the race, was in a great state of agitation and excitement, exclaimed, “Here, Lord Alfred, what do you say to all this? there’s a squabble as to who Mr. Tirrett is to ride for. I thought you’d settled with him, long ago, to ride Don Pasquale?”
“Such was, no doubt, the understanding between us,” returned Lord Alfred, firmly; “nor had I reason to suspect that he meant not to fulfil his engagement, until I received a note some two hours ago, telling me that circumstances prevented him from riding for me. These circumstances I now, for the first time, conjecture to resolve themselves into the fact that he has been bribed by some one to ride for Captain Annesley.”
“Pray, my Lord, do you intend that remark to apply to me?” inquired Captain Annesley, who was a tall, handsome, fashionable-looking man, with black whiskers and moustaches.
“I intended the remark to apply to Mr. Tirrett,” was Lord Alfred’s reply; “he had engaged to ride for me; I believe he has been bribed to break that engagement, because I can imagine no other reason so likely to influence a person of his character; but it’s a matter of perfect indifference to me who may have bribed him, and as I am fortunate enough to have secured the services of a gentleman on whose honour I can rely, as well as upon his horsemanship, I care very little about the whole matter, and must leave you, gentlemen, to settle your differences without my interference.”
As he spoke he was turning to leave the spot, when Tirrett stepped before him and prevented him.