I'd fall at the Pitch and end it rather.

Oh I hope, hope, hope, that her golden heart Will give me a word before I start.

If I thought our love should have come to wreck, I'd pull Right Royal and break my neck, And Monkery's shoe might kick my brains out That my own heart's blood might wash my stains out.

But even if Emmy, my sweet, forgive, I'm a ruined man, so I need not live, For I've backed my horse with my all, by Heaven, To be first in a field of thirty-seven, And good as he is, the dream's a lie."

He saw no hope, but to fall and die.

As he left the room for the Saddling Paddock He looked as white as the flesh of haddock.

But Love, all seeing, though painted blind, Makes wisdom live in a woman's mind: His love knew well from her own heart's bleeding The word of help that her man was needing; And there she stood with her eyes most bright, Ready to cheer her heart's delight.

She said, "My darling, I feel so proud To see you followed by all the crowd; And I shall be proud as I see you win.

Right Royal, Soyland and Peterkin Are the three I pick, first, second, third.

And oh, now listen to what I heard.

Just now in the park Sir Norman Cooking Said, 'Harding, how well Right Royal's looking.

They've brought him on in the ring, they say.'

John said, 'Sir Norman, to-day's his day.'

And Sir Norman said, 'If I had a monkey I'd put it on yours, for he looks so s.p.u.n.ky.'

So you see that the experts think as you.

Now, my own own own, may your dream come true, As I know it will, as I know it must; You have all my prayer and my love and trust.

Oh, one thing more that Sir Norman said, 'A lot of money has just been laid On the mare Gavotte that no one knows.'

He said 'She's small, but, my word, she goes.

Since she bears no weight, if she only jumps, She'll put these cracks to their ace of trumps.

But,' he said, 'she's slight for a course like this.'

That's all my gossip, so there it is.

Dear, reckon the words I spoke unspoken, I failed in love and my heart is broken.

Now I go to my place to blush with pride As the people talk of how well you ride; I mean to shout like a bosun's mate When I see you lead coming up the straight.

Now may all G.o.d's help be with you, dear."

"Well, bless you, Em, for your words of cheer.

And now is the woodc.o.c.k near the gin.

Good-bye.

Now, Harding, we'd best begin."

At buckle and billet their fingers wrought, Till the sheets were home and the bowlines taut.

As he knotted the reins and took his stand The horse's soul came into his hand And up from the mouth that held the steel Came an innermost word, half thought, half feel,

"My day to-day, O master, O master; None shall jump cleaner, none shall go faster, Call till you kill me, for I'll obey, It's my day to-day, it's my day to-day."

In a second more he had found his seat, And the standers-by jumped clear of feet, For the big dark bay all fire and fettle Had his blood in a dance to show his mettle.

Charles soothed him down till his tricks were gone; Then he leaned for a final word from John.

John Harding's face was alert and grim, From under his hand he talked to him.

"It's none of my business, sir," he said, "What you stand to win or the bets you've made, But the rumour goes that you've backed your horse.

Now you need no telling of Compton Course.

It's a dangerous course at the best of times, But on days like this some jumps are crimes; With a field like this, nigh forty starting, After one time round it'll need re-charting.

Now think it a hunt, the first time round; Don't think too much about losing ground, Lie out of your ground, for sure as trumps There'll be people killed in the first three jumps.

The second time round, pipe hands for boarding, You can see what's doing and act according.

Now your horse is a slug and a sulker too, Your way with the horse I leave to you; But, sir, you watch for these joker's tricks And watch that devil on number six; There's nothing he likes like playing it low, What a horse mayn't like or a man mayn't know, And what they love when they race a toff Is to flurry his horse at taking off.

The ways of the crook are hard to learn.

Now watch that fence at the outer turn; It looks so slight but it's highly like That it's killed more men than the Dyers' d.y.k.e.

It's down in a dip and you turn to take it, And men in a bunch, just there, mistake it.

But well to the right, it's firmer ground, And the quick way there is the long way round.

In Cannibal's year, in just this weather, There were five came down at that fence together.

I called it murder, not riding races.

You've nothing to fear from the other places, Your horse can jump.

Now I'll say no more.

They say you're on, as I said before.

It's none of my business, sir, but still I would like to say that I hope you will.

Sir, I wish you luck. When we two next meet I hope to hear how you had them beat."

Charles Cothill nodded with, "Thank you, John.

We'll try; and, oh, you're a thousand on."

He heard John's thanks, but knew at a glance That John was sure that he stood no chance.

He turned Right Royal, he drew deep breath With the thought "Now for it; a ride to death."

"Now come, my beauty, for dear Em's sake, And if come you can't, may our necks both break."

And there to his front, with their riders stooping For the final word, were the racers trooping.

Out at the gate to cheers and banter They paced in pride to begin their canter.

Muscatel with the big white star, The roan Red Ember, and Kubbadar,

Kubbadar with his teeth bared yellow At the Dakkanese, his stable-fellow.

Then Forward-Ho, then a chestnut weed, Skysail, slight, with a turn of speed.

The neat Gavotte under black and coral, Then the Mutineer, Lord Leybourne's sorrel, Natuna mincing, Syringa sidling, Stormalong fighting to break his bridling, Thunderbolt dancing with raw nerves quick, Trying a savage at Bitter d.i.c.k.

The Ranger (winner three years before), Now old, but ready for one try more; Hadrian; Thankful; the stable-cronies, Peterkinooks and Dear Adonis; The flashing Rocket, with taking action; Exception, backed by the Tencombe faction; Old Sir Francis and young King Tony, Culverin striding from great hips bony.

At this, he rode through the open gate Into the course to try his fate.

He heard a roar from a moving crowd; Right Royal kindled and cried aloud.

There was the course, stand, rail and pen, Peopled with seventy thousand men; Seventy thousand faces staring, Carriages parked, a bra.s.s band blaring: Over the stand the flags in billows Bent their poles like the wands of willows.

All men there seemed trying to bawl, Yet a few great voices topped them all: "I back the field! I back the field!"

Right Royal trembled with pride and squealed.

Charles Cothill smiled with relief to find This roaring crowd to his horse's mind.