"He was a good 'orse once; he's broken down and aged; he can't be trained, so six-seven seems just the kind of weight to throw him in at. You couldn't give him less, however old and broken down he may be. He was a good horse when he won the Great Ebor Grand Cup."
"Do you think if they brought him to the post as fit and well as he was the day he won the Ebor that he'd win?"
"What, fit and well as he was when he won the Great Ebor, and with six-seven on his back? He'd walk away with it."
"You don't think any of the three-year-olds would have a chance with him?
A Derby winner with seven stone on his back might beat him."
"Yes, but nothing short of that. Even then old Ben would make a race of it. A nailing good horse once. A little brown horse about fifteen two, as compact as a leg of Welsh mutton…. But there's no use in thinking of him. They've been trying for years to train him. Didn't they used to get the flesh off him in a Turkish bath? That was Fulton's notion. He used to say that it didn't matter 'ow you got the flesh off so long as you got it off. Every pound of flesh off the lungs is so much wind, he used to say. But the Turkish bath trained horses came to the post limp as old rags. If a 'orse 'asn't the legs you can't train him. Every pound of flesh yer take off must put a pound 'o 'ealth on. They'll do no good with old Ben, unless they've found out a way of growing on him a pair of new forelegs. The old ones won't do for my money."
"But do you think that Courtney will take the same view of his capabilities as you do—do you think he'll let him off as easily as you have?"
"He can't give him much more…. The 'orse is bound to get in at seven stone, rather under than over."
"I'm glad to 'ear yer say so, for I know you've a headpiece, and 'as all the running in there." Stack tapped his forehead. "Now, I'd like to ask you if there's any three-year-olds that would be likely to interfere with him?"
"Derby and Leger winners will get from eight stone to eight stone ten, and three-year-olds ain't no good over the Cesarewitch course with more than eight on their backs."
The conversation paused. Surprised at Stack's silence, Journeyman said—