“My dear Coverdale, in that and everything else I shall be guided by your wishes,” was the reply. “I’d make you a free gift of him, and be glad to get rid of the brute, if it wasn’t for the money I owe.”
At this moment, the groom made a signal, to which Coverdale immediately attended.
“The longer he stays in this here crowd and bustle, the wilder and savager he’ll get, and the worser he’ll be to mount; so the sooner I sees yer honour in the saddle, the better I shall be pleased.”
“All serene, Dick,” returned Harry, cheerfully. “Wish me luck and keep your spirits up, Alfred, my boy!” he continued, shaking his companion’s hand heartily: then, with a nod to the groom, to announce his intention, he approached the horse leisurely, and watching his opportunity, waited until something had attracted the animal’s notice, and caused it to turn its head in an opposite direction; when, placing his foot quietly in the stirrup, he was firmly seated before Don Pasquale became aware of his intention, or had time to attempt any resistance. Slowly gathering up the reins, Coverdale desired Dick to “give him his head;” the first use he made of it being to place it between his fore legs with a jerk, which if his rider had not judiciously yielded to it, would have pulled the reins from his grasp But Don Pasquale had an object in thus lowering his haughty crest—namely, at the same time to fling up his heels, and eject the intruder who had dared so unceremoniously to usurp the seat of dominion on his august back, much as a stone is hurled from a sling. Harry, however, being prepared for any eccentricity of motion on the part of the amiable quadruped he bestrode, retained his seat in spite of the Don’s strenuous efforts to dislodge him; a performance which appeared to astonish and impress the creature to such a degree, that he tossed up his head so suddenly as to render Dick’s caution in regard to “knocking out brains” by no means a superfluous figure of speech, and abruptly started off in a kind of half-sidling, half-dancing canter. Having indulged the Don with a preliminary gallop up and down the first quarter of a mile of the course, during which he amused himself by occasionally lashing out in a way which soon obtained for him those popular desiderata—a clear course and no favour, Harry brought him back to the starting-post just as Phil Tirrett appeared, looking the perfection of a jockey, and mounted on a splendid black thorough-bred, which Coverdale conjectured must be—from its superiority to every other horse on the course—Captain Annesley’s Black Eagle. At this moment, Dick, the groom, handed Coverdale a leaf of a betting-book, crumpled up into the form of a note; seizing an opportunity when his horse was for an instant quiet, Harry opened it, and read the following words:—
“Hond sur, Black hegel’s wery prity to luke hat, but he han’t got the Don’s pluck, nor P. T. hun’t got yourn—hin ther last field but won ther’s a corner may be cut hoff by taking a dich with a low ston warl hon the bank abuv, and a rail atop—hits a properly dangrus leep, but if our ’orse is rode boldly and aint blowd, he’ll face hit and clear hit, hand B. E. and P. T. won’t.—Yr humbel survent, Dick Dodge.”
Hastily casting his eye over it, Harry caught the general meaning of the note, and, tearing it, he gave his confidential adviser a glance, which so clearly conveyed his recognition of the merits of his scheme, that Dick in soliloquy confided to himself, that he was at that moment open to be “blowed” if it was not his conviction that if Coverdale could keep his seat for the first five minutes, he might do the trick after all. As Harry rode up to the starting-post, Tirrett perceived, from his firm but easy seat in the saddle, his strong yet light hand on the rein, restraining without irritating his horse, that he had a first-rate rider to contend against; and knowing, as no one did so well as himself, the powers of the animal on which Coverdale was mounted, he, for the first time since he had refused to ride for Lord Alfred, felt anxious as to the result of the race, which, reckoning it completely secure, he had betted on much more largely than was his habit. After relieving his feelings by a muttered volley of oaths, he continued mentally,—
“This is pleasant: the fellow sits his horse as composedly as if he were in an arm-chair! he seems to understand the temper of the brute too! I suppose Dick has put him up to that, in revenge for the blow I gave him. I’ve got a frightfully heavy book on the event—nearly £1000. I was a fool to risk it; and yet I thought the money was as safe as if it had been in my pocket. I never expected the horse would have trained sound as he has; if I’d been sure of that I would have ridden him myself. Well, the race must be won at all hazards; if the Don would but get into one of his tantarums now, nobody that didn’t know his ways could sit him. Ha; yes, a good idea; I think it maybe done that way—and yet it’s hazardous—but I won’t be rash—only Black Eagle must not lose, whatever may be the consequence.” While such thoughts as these were passing hurriedly through his brain, the signal was given, and the horses started.