"Done!" said the squire; "I'll back Dick the Divil."
"Tare an' ouns!" roared Murphy; "how Andy runs! Fear's a fine spur."
"So is rage," said the squire. "Dick's hot-foot after him. Will you double the bet?"
"Done!" said Murphy.
The infection of betting caught the bystanders, and various gages were thrown down and taken up upon the speed of the runners, who were getting rapidly into the distance, flying over hedge and ditch with surprising velocity, and, from the level nature of the ground, an extensive view could not be obtained; therefore Tom Durfy, the steeple-chaser, cried "Mount, mount! or we'll lose the fun: into our saddles, and after them!"
Those who had steeds took the hint, and a numerous field of horsemen joined in the chase of Handy Andy and Dick the Devil, who still maintained great speed. The horsemen made for a neighbouring hill, whence they could command a wider view; and the betting went on briskly, varying according to the vicissitudes of the race.
"Two to one on Dick—he's closing."
"Done!—Andy will wind him yet."
"Well done!—there's a leap! Hurra!—Dick's down! Well done, Dick!—up again, and going."
"Mind the next quickset hedge—that's a rasper; it's a wide gripe, and the hedge is as thick as a wall—Andy'll stick in it.—Mind him!—Well leap'd, by the powers!—Ha! he's sticking in the hedge—Dick'll catch him now.—No, by jingo! he has pushed his way through—there he's going again at the other side.—Ha! ha! ha! ha! look at him—he's in tatthers!—he has left half of his breeches in the hedge."