"Yes, and of course, you must ride."
"I shall be delighted," replied Jack. "It will probably be my last mount in the old country, for many a long year."
"What country are you bound for?" asked Caleb.
"I do not know at present."
"I have a brother in Sydney, in New South Wales. He has done well there; he trains horses at Randwich, and I am sure if you met him, that is, if you go to Australia, he would make you welcome. He might be able to give you a wrinkle, put you in the way of making a living. He was always a shrewd sharp fellow; I have not heard from him for some time, but I know he is still there," said Caleb.
"If I decide upon Australia, I shall be only too pleased to meet him."
"His name is Joel, and if you decide to go there, I will write to him about you."
"Thanks," replied Jack, "it is always nice to meet a friend in the midst of strangers."
Jack Redland was often at Lewes, and rode gallops on the downs for the trainer. After their conversation he had a spin on Topsy Turvy, who went remarkably well, and he wondered if he was to win another race on him before he left.
From Lewes he went up to London, and called at several shipping offices. As he came out of the Orient Line offices and walked along Fenchurch Street, he met an old schoolfellow named Harry Marton, whom he had lost sight of for some years.