Luke thanked him, and said he'd do his best, telling him what Hadwin said.

"That sounds all right," returned Glen smiling, "let's hope he's. .h.i.t the mark."

"You'd better have a bit on my mount in this race," said the jockey. It was the Railway Handicap, six furlongs, fifteen runners.

"What are you on?" asked Glen.

"Pioneer," replied Luke. "There he is. I must hurry up."

Glen turned back into the ring, and walked to Gerard.

"What price Pioneer?" he asked.

Nick looked at him and smiled.

"Eight to one," he answered.

"Eight fivers," said Glen, handing him a note.

There was a few minutes' slackness and Gerard said, "What makes you fancy Pioneer?"

"Nicholl's riding him. He told me to have a bit on."

"His luck's in," said Nick, who sent one of his clerks to put fifty on Luke's mount.

Glen Leigh met Bill Bigs and induced him to back Pioneer, also Jim Benny, and they went on the stand to see the race.

Many people knew Glen Leigh as the daring rider in the Buckjumping Show; and he was a tall, athletic, handsome man. Many bright eyes were levelled at him as he moved about.

"What's Pioneer's colours?" asked Bill.

Glen looked at his race book.

"White, black cap," he said.

He had no sooner spoken than the horses were off, racing up the straight at top speed. It was a regular Newmarket Handicap on a small scale.

Soon after crossing the tan the white jacket came to the front.

"That's Pioneer!" exclaimed Bill.

"He's in front and he'll stop there," said a man behind him.

"I hope he does."

"So do I. He's a speedy horse, and good enough for a Newmarket."

Pioneer came sailing along past the stands and turned out an easy winner by three lengths, at which there was much jubilation among the three friends.

"I shall put my winnings on Barellan," said Bill.

"So shall I," said Jim.

"I'll keep mine in my pocket," said Glen.

"You've got a big stake going. By Jove, it will be a go if you win first prize in the sweep; you'll be a cut above us poor beggars then," Bill remarked.

"It won't make the slightest difference that way," replied Glen smiling.

"I know that, old man. I was only chaffing," laughed Bill. "I suppose if anyone accepts Gerard's challenge you'll ride, even if Barellan wins?"

"Certainly. I promised him," Glen answered.

"Let us go into the paddock, and have a look at some of the Cup horses,"

said Jim, and they walked along the lawn in that direction.

CHAPTER XXV

HE LOOKED AT HIS TICKET

"That was a good tip; we all backed it," said Glen as Nicholl came up to them.

"He won easily," said the jockey smiling.

"Your luck's in," remarked Bill.

"I hope it will continue in the Cup," answered the jockey.

Barellan was being put to rights in the corner of the paddock and they went to see him.

Bellshaw was not there, so Hadwin had an opportunity of speaking to them. He a.s.sured Glen the horse would win if he had a good run in the race, which he was almost sure to have with such a jockey as Luke Nicholl in the saddle.

Barellan looked fresh and well. His coat shone like satin. He was trained to the hour, but the suspicious-looking bandages, and one hoof bound up with copper wire, caused many people to pa.s.s him by in their search for the winner.

Luke Nicholl, wearing Bellshaw's sky blue jacket and red cap, was ready to mount when the time came. He felt confident. Hadwin had made an impression on him, inspired him with some of his enthusiasm. Nicholl was well off, Hadwin was not; the victory of Barellan meant the difference between debt and independence. The trainer was not a gambler. He seldom had more than five or ten pounds on, but he could not resist backing Barellan, at the long prices offered, when he was lame. He had three thousand to ninety about the horse, and backed him to win another thousand that morning. Glen had laid him five hundred out of the sweep money.

Perhaps Glen Leigh was one of the most anxious men on the course, but there was no sign that he was unduly excited. He laughed and joked as usual and appeared quite calm outwardly.

The chance of winning a fortune of nearly twenty-five thousand pounds for the investment of a sovereign does not come to many men in a lifetime. This was what Glen stood to win, and he conjured up his future prospects if it came off. He thought of Mrs. Prevost and Clara; the former he knew loved him; at least he was very much mistaken if she did not, and he knew he loved her. If Barellan won he would go to her and ask her to be his wife, and she would not refuse. He cared nothing about her connection with Bellshaw. He would never ask her about it. He knew the man, and pitied any woman who got into his clutches. As he stood looking at Barellan he thought what the horse's victory meant to him, and naturally he became more anxious as the time of the race drew near.

He saw Bellshaw coming and would have avoided him had it been possible.

The squatter scowled at him, then asked, "Have you changed your mind?

Will you give me a cent out of the sweep?"