"'Well,' says he, 'I'm riding Perishing Percy. If it wus a clog-dancing competition it 'ud be easy money, but bein' a race, back any one, even the starter, sooner than me.'
"Then I met Spruggy Boyce, who useter drive with me in the Umpteenth Field Ambulance.
"'Glory, Docker,' says he, falling on my neck, his top-boots being a bit loose, 'I was looking for you.'
"'I ain't got no money,' says I.
"'But you can 'ave,' he whispers confidential, like they do in the pictures. 'I'm riding Red Liz in the Balaam.'
"'Well,' I replies, 'I'm not denying that Red Liz is a perfect lady; but that's 'er trouble—she's too ladylike to pass anyone.'
"'Docker,' he hisses, 'do you remember driving 'er one day down the Menin Road when Fritz started shelling?'
"'Don't I just! Why, she didn't fetch up till nearly at St. Omer, and the shells lost heart becos they couldn't catch 'er. But,' I says regretfully, it takes shells to start Red Liz, an' we ain't got none.'
"'No, we 'aven't got shells,' whispers Spruggy, 'but I 've got some crackers; an' if you sprinkle some on the course, it's a cert.'
"'Right-o!' says I. 'Me an' Nigger will see it through, if you'll lend us another five francs to invest.'