“Crown, sare! I have no crowns,” replied Jack, pulling the horse round. “I’ll lay ve sovereign—von pon ten, if vou like.”
“Come, I’ll make it ten shillings. I’ll make it ten shillings,” replied Sir Moses: adding, “Mr. Flintoff is my witness.”
“Done!” cried Monsieur. “Done! I takes the vager. Von pon I beats old Cuddy to de clomp, ten shillin’ I gets over de brook.”
“All right!” rejoined Sir Moses, “all right! Now,” continued he, clapping his hands, “get your horses together—one, two, three, and away!”
Up bounced Mayfly in the air; away went Cuddy amidst the cheers and shouts of the roadsters—“Flintoff! Flintoff! Flinfoff!! The yaller! the yaller! the yaller!” followed by a general rush along the grass-grown Macadamised road, between London and Hinton.
“Oh, dat is your game, is it?” asked Jack as Mayfly, after a series of minor evolutions, subsided on all fours in a sort of attitude of attention. “Dat is your game, is it!” saying which he just took him short by the head, and, pressing his knees closely into the saddle, gave him such a couple of persuasive digs with his spurs as sent him bounding away after the General. “Go it, Frenchman!” was now the cry.
“Go it! aye he can go it,” muttered Jack, as the horse now dropped on the bit, and laid himself out for work. He was soon in the wake of his opponent.
The first field was a well-drained wheat stubble, with a newly plashed fence on the ground between it and the adjoining pasture; which, presenting no obstacle, they both went at it as if bent on contending for the lead, Monsieur sacréing, grinning, and grimacing, after the manner of his adopted country; while Mr. Flintoff sailed away in the true jockey style, thinking he was doing the thing uncommonly well.
Small as the fence was, however, it afforded Jack an opportunity of shooting into his horse’s shoulders, which Cuddy perceiving, he gave a piercing view holloa, and spurred away as if bent on bidding him goodbye. This set Jack on his mettle; and getting back into his seat he gathered his horse together and set too, elbows and legs, elbows and legs, in a way that looked very like frenzy.
The feint of a fall, however, was a five-pound note in Mr. Gallon’s way, for Jack did it so naturally that there was an immediate backing of Cuddv. “Flintoff! Flintoff! Flintoff! The yaller! the yaller! the yaller!” was again the cry.