"I thought he was going to crack up," answered the jockey. "It must have been his foot. I fancy he wanted to ease it as he came round the bend; it probably pinched him."
"That's it," said Hadwin. "There's no doubt about it. What a run he made up the straight. I never saw anything like it."
While they were talking Bellshaw came up, scowling. He did not look like the owner of the Cup winner.
"You see I was right," said Hadwin. "He won a great race."
"Which Nicholl nearly threw away," retorted Bellshaw.
"You're mistaken," said the jockey. "If Barellan hadn't been one of the gamest horses that ever looked through a bridle he would never have got up and won."
"You ran him out wide at the bend when you had a good position on the rails," said Bellshaw.
Nicholl explained, but the squatter was in no mood to listen to reason. He had won the Melbourne Cup, but Glen Leigh had won first prize in the sweep, and this made him rage. By all the rights of ownership he ought at least to have five thousand laid him if his horse won. When he thought how Leigh threatened him with exposure, he could have killed him without compunction. There was no more dissatisfied man on the course than the owner of the Cup winner. He had no pleasure in the victory. The cheering he knew was not for him but for the horse and jockey.
Glen Leigh walked away to avoid him. He saw the man was in no mood to be crossed and was almost beside himself with ill-feeling and disappointment. It was not, however, Bellshaw's intention that Glen should escape him. He wished to quarrel with somebody, and Leigh scented his purpose. He walked after him and said, loud enough for those standing near to hear, "You've won the sweep money by the aid of my horse. Are you man enough to give me something out of it?"
Glen guessed by the way he spoke he meant mischief. There was menace in his voice. He stopped, faced him, and answered, "I'm man enough to refuse to give you a penny out of it."