Sam Henderson came and said to me, while I was thinking what next to do, after getting the better of one enemy—“Would you like to see old Crumbly Pots?” Sam had been making money lately, and scorned anybody who could not pay up—“It might do some good, and can do no harm. He is ducking his head among his moats and meres because he was hard hit at Ascot. He owes me five ponies; he was ass enough to back that cur Sylvester, a nag who lays his ears back, the moment he is collared. I am pretty flush now, and I don’t care to squeeze him; but I’m going to the July, for one more spree, before being tethered finally. He won’t dare to show his mug there; but you and I could toddle on to his earth, afterwards.”
I told Sam plainly that I did not understand the meaning of his overture. But he only replied—“Then the more fool you. Can you understand this—I am going to the July meeting at Newmarket, where the best two-year-olds of the season come out, and you may see five or six of old Chalker’s string. It would do you a deal of good to see them, and take your mind out of your own hat; though you don’t know a racehorse from your old Spanker. If you like to come with me I will stand Sam, according to the meaning of my name and nature. I shall make another hatful of money there, for cockering up the bridesmaids, and that sort of thing; and after that we might rout up old Hotchpot.”
I perceived that Sam’s meaning was most friendly, and after consulting Uncle Corny, who thought that I sadly wanted change of scene, and a little more experience of the world, I arranged to go with Sam to headquarters, as he called it, and after the racing should be over to proceed to Hotchpot Hall, in Lincolnshire. Sam could procure me admittance there; and I longed to come face to face with my old rival.
With the racing I was pleased, as any man must be at beholding noble animals, and hoping that the best of them may win. Of the thousand guiles and wiles, that defraud them of fair play, I was happy enough to know nothing, and believed that the two legs across them were as honest as their four. Yet I wondered sometimes; and it proved how little one may judge of quality by appearance, and how true the Holy Scriptures are, when the horse that seemed likely to be last came first.
Of Sam I saw little, for he was too busy, going the round both of stables and of houses, and forming opinion less by eyes than ears, and most of all by his own conscience, which told him how he would have acted in the position of the rest. Sam had a conscience not only nimble but extremely sensitive, which enabled him to judge that of other sporting men perhaps less highly gifted. For these he charitably made allowance, forgiving their defects when he pocketed their money.
“I have not done so badly,” he said on Friday night; “I made a fine hit through old Roper. That old chap is worth a mint to me, for I know every twist of his grand old mind. The professionals were cocksure that Columbine was meant, and she could not have lost if she had been. How much have you won, Kit? I put you up neatly. You might have made a hundred, without risk of a hair.”
“Well, I only bet half a crown, and that I lost. I think Spanker could have beaten most of them. They don’t seem to me to go at any pace at all.”
“That is what a greenhorn always thinks. If you were on their backs you would soon find out the difference. Well, let’s have some supper, and be off by the night mail. But you look queer. Have you met any one you know, old chap?”
“Not a soul that I know, except Mr. Chalker; and I only know him by sight. But this afternoon I saw a face that I have seen before, though I have no idea who the owner is. I looked for you to tell me, but I could not find you.”
“Very likely not. I went to see the saddling. You seem in a way about it. What makes you take it up so?”