THE TEST

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXI, Issue 21962, 20 November 1934, Page 17

THE TEST

BT. BRUCE CARET

The pounding of hoof-beats suddenly Ceased: Marcus Alding's stopwatch found its usual niche in a speciallyreserved pocket, and Marcus Aiding himself stepped down from the railing that marked the end of the training ground. * "Betty, my dear, we've got a winner there.?' Betty Aiding nodded. She still sat upon the rail, seemingly intent upon the fiery chestnut prancing proudly towards them. But in reality her eyes were foeussed just a little higher th.'-n / * the chestnut's head. So that *vas Tipley Bay arc!, of whom ehe had heard so much. " Tip " the famous trainer-jockey who was now in charge of the Aiding Stables. . •-c was younger than she thought; twentyeight at mo . Dark, lissom, possessing a grace that needed but the swaying of a horse to show it to advantage. But his manners? Betty grinned. If hearsay were correct, Tipley Bayard was as responsive to fine overtures as an angry bear is to smiles. She watched him ride to the very spot where her father stood, before swinging himself lightlv '• saddle. Aiding was instant approval. "Excellent, Tip. Ten seconds less than his rflnning time last week. And the beggar hasn't - turned a single hair." Bayard ran a hand caressingly over the horse's neck. "No He's pretty tough. . But I want to increase that ten seconds to a minute, if 1 can." "You won't wind him, Tip?" Aiding regretted the words as soon as he said them. Bayard swung round fiercely. "Have 1 winded a horse yet?" Aiding shook his head "No no, Tip. Of course not. A very thoughtless remark on my part." He turned self-consciously, caught sight of Betty and smiled. "Ah! Tip, you haven't met my daughter, have you? Only just returned from a trip abroad. Let me introduce you, Betty, this is Mr. Bayard." , I

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Bayard turned slowly. His dark eyes momentarily widened as lie regarded her coolly. Then as she smiled he took away his glance, acknowledged the introduction with the most casual of nods, and turned again to her father. "You can enter him for the Spring Meeting," he growled. "He should be ready by then." "It's the Trentham Races I'm concerned about," Aiding began, but Bayard interrupted him curtly. "I know that. But it won't hurt to give him a little practice beforehand." For lustiness, his voice would have been hard to excel. Ho turned the chestnut's head abruptly and commenced to lead him away. "Delightful creature," Betty cooed as Aiding led her back to his roadster. "I'm simply thrilled over the polite way he acknowledged my introduction. And what a temper! Too sweet for words." Aiding laughed. "He does snap a bit," he admitted. "But it's just his way, Betty. When you understand him he is one of the best." "When!" Betty teased, and started the powerful car in motion. Tipley Bayard flung a cover over the Toreador's gleaming coat. He had hosed him, dried him, brushed him and fed hi in, and now he stood as a man well pleased with his handiwork. It was a peculiar trait of Tipley Bayard that he never permitted anyone to perform a single service for the favourite of any stables of which he had charge. Every requirement, right down to the most minute detail had to be performed by his own strong hands, a fact which tiie other members of the Aiding stables never for a moment forgot. There had been incidents two years ago, when Bayard had first taken over his task, which would never permit them to forget —even had they chosen. For Buvard, in spite of his gentleness with horses, was as hard in his punches 'as any man of the ring. Uncrossed, he was ■ an easy to get on with as the mildesli man on earth: hsirass him, or deliberately go against his grain, and he was, like a demon magnified. Before the Toreador's next test took place Marcus Aiding was called away from liorne. He hurried down to the stables to give the favourite a parting caress. Bayard was there as usual, < bendint: the animal as he would a sick . child. 1

"S'long, Tip. Sorry I won't be able to work the stop watch at the nexl test, but I am leaving it with Betty. Just let her know when you are ready. She's as keen as mustard." Bayard merely grunted. When the test took place Bayard made no reference to Betty. It was only by the slightest chance that she li6Rrd Annoyed, Betty commanded her horse to be saddled, swung to its slender back, and by dint of swift riding was in time to see the Toreador flashing down to the timing post. Bayard reined in lightly, and_ as lightiy reached the turf. He just glanced in Betty's direction, but for all the interest he showed she might well have been one of the rails on the training ground. He looked inquiringly at Rankin. " Another fifteen seconds less," Rankin said excitedly. " Lad, you'll get there yet." Bayard nodded. " I'll walk him back," he announced and sot about rugging his charge. Betty grimaced behind his back, but there was a twinkle in her eye as she voiced her next question. " Are you satisfied with the Toreador now? " " Quite. Another thirty five seconds off his time and he will be perfect. But he will have to be ridden with a different bit." It had long been a custom for the Aiding horses to be ridden with rubber bits. A whim perhaps, but Marcus Aiding had conceived the idea years and years ago; designed and had made a bit out of a special composition of rubber which had proved as efficient as steel in every respect. More, it had the added advantage of preserving the responsiveness of the Aiding horses' mouths. Bayard's sudden statement was blunt enough to fire her to retort. " What is wrong with the Aiding bit? It seems nice enough." "Nice!" Bayard's eyes suddenly glinted like flints. " A thing isn't efficient because it seems nice." " Mr. Bayard. Are you always so discourteous? " It was his turn to flush now. " Yes—when people air opinions on things they do not understand, I am always discourteous." "Indeed! And what right have you to say I do not understand? " Betty's words came quickly. Her head was tilted defiantly. " Because I know the Aiding bit would be powerless if the Toreador decided to bolt. I have ridden him. I should be able to judge." " And I say you are wrong. The Aiding bit has never been known to fail." " Because it has never been asked to deal with a horse like the Toreador," Bayard retorted, but there was a smile upon his usually stern features. " If I

5 might say so, Miss Aiding, you are b behaving childishly. You would rather . a rider risked his neck than admit that . you are wrong." She faced him squarely, her red lips set. "I would ride the Toreador with i that bit at any time, in any race." ! "You would? Very well. You shall ride him in the test on Friday. I will have the whole bunch of horses running. Then we'll see if the Aiding bit is efficient." Beyond a flutter of her eyelids she made no movement. He wondered if he had misjudged her—whether she was something more than his first impression of her—whether she was game. " Very well. On Friday." He smiled as she rode away. Friday was three days away. A lot could happen in three days. When Friday arrived however, Betty was waiting on the training ground. Bayard's lips were set. She thought she could read concern in his eyes as he assisted her to mount. " You are certain you wish to go on with it? " She laughed, a gay haunting laugh. " Positive. Would you have me admit a lack of faith? " He moved to the starting point. His answer had been but a mocking smile. It drove away every semblance of fear from her mind. She set her teeth grimly as she held the Toreador to the starting line. Bayard apparently thought he could make her afraid. Very well. She would show him. She sent the chestnut forward. But there was one thing Betty Aiding could not see. The tense watchfulness of the man behind. Bayard had taken all the precaution he could and had dinned into his best rider the necessity for instant action if the Toreador displayed the least sign of mischief ' The warning was unnecessary however. Bight from the start the Toreador conducted himself in thoroughbred fashion. He raced with all the speed he could command. But his ways were as gentle as the hands that held him. Betty pulled up at the timing post jubilant, excited, flushed with a triumph she had hardly won. Bayard went to greet her, relief showing in every line of his face. But his words were brief. " Very good. You have taken off seven more seconds." " And the bit? " " Oh. Excellent!" > Littlo idiot. Didn't she realise that beyond holding the reins she had made no demand upon tho Toreador. Had not needed to make demand —because the horse knew his work and every foot of the course he must run. The Toreador was in his very best mood. His mouth for a while at least would be softly responsive to every signal.

But Bayard made no mention of that. Betty had taken an open risk. She had accepted his taunt. She was game. He would not attempt to take away her joy in view of her now proved courage. -»•»*«* By the time the day of the spring meeting arrived, Tipley Bayard had reached his goal. The Toreador's speed had increased so much that even Bayard himself was surprised. He felt that by forcing the fiery creature he could still decrease the' sought-after time limit, but Bayard was wise. He knew the Toreador's spirit was responsible for much of his achievement. He had no desire to take toll in tho splendid creature's health.

Betty's interest was as keen as Alding's. The spring meeting was by no means an outstanding meeting. However big the field, the Toreador would not meet any rival of very great merit. Tho entries were mostly local. But the day was significant in its way, because it was to mark the chestnut's initial appearance on the track. Aiding wondered how he would face it. Bayard, too. 1

Studying the characteristics of Bayard's make-up, Betty gradually l felt herself fprced to the conclusion that her success with the Toreador had in nowise lessened Bayard's opinion—or rather his lack of opinion—of the Aiding bit. And, judging the Toreador's temperament by her own experience of him, she felt justified in promulgating a self-conceived plan. Before the horses wore about to parade, she slipped' into the Toreador's box. As she had anticipated. Bayard, under pretext of " seeing to something," went outside. Quick as she could, without disturbing the Toreador, Betty examined tho bit. It was steel. A tiny smile of derision played about her lips as she started unbuckling straps. There was a remarkable likeness about the two bits. As long as the Toreador's mouth was closed Bayard would never suspect the change.

The race was tho Toreador's right from the beginning. His coat was a mass of reflected light as he galloped down the straight. Bayard, crouching easily in the saddle, the green and white of the Aiding colours offset by tho Toreador's fiery pride, was hardly interested in the contest. He was more concerned with tho chestnut's paces — the way he conducted himself in a crowd. " So far there was nothing to criticise in the Toreador's behaviour, but Bayard, watchful, presently grew uneasy. The horse was beginning to drag on the reins. Used now to flashes of speed, he resented Bayard's restraining hold, showed his resentment by demanding more rein. and. finding it denied, settled down to fight with a temper not unmixed with fury. The resultant break in speed drew a gasp from the watching crowd. Was

! it possible that after all the race would not be to the swift? Breathlessly they Watched an oldi time favourite stretching forward with hope renewed speed. Still the Toreador wrestled. Still Bayard was adamant. Until suddenly the course resounded to a yell that rose from a thousand throats. "Firefly.! Firefly!" The temper which had governed the Toreador's mind was as nothing to the fear which now invaded it. Betty, watching, saw the great horse leap, swerve, then with outstretched head bear headlong down the course. The crowd suddenly silenced. Nothing could stem the Toreador now. But something about the way he was running bespoke a drama that was bound, to come. Every eye was upon hi" racing figure. Firefly was forgotten, lost in tho insignificance of chance before the inevitable. The Toreador was superb. Magnificent. But more he was wholly uncontrolled. Silently the crowd still waited; tense | with the premonition of fear. Past the grandstands. Past the winning post. Straight for the rails that divided course from road. Too late, the Toreador sensed his danger. Too late, he reared and tried to jump. A sickening crash, and the horrified watchers saw the backward plunge of man It was hours before Bayard again regained consciousness. He found himself in a private hospital, room, with Betty sitting beside him. She met the full conscious gaze of his eyes, and hold it a moment without speaking. His first words wore characteristic. " The Toreador. How is he?" << Splendid. Only grazed his shoulder. But vou, Tip—" Her voice faltered. Ho saw her eyes filling with tears of reproach. " How can I ask you ever to forgive me?" His gaze now was piercing. " I changed his bit, Tip—just before the race. It would never have happened—otherwise." So that Avas it! And she was here now, weeping because he had suffered. • " Wrong," he lied glibly. " I —or — guessed what you had been up to. I fitted another bit." His reward lay in the smile that overspread her features. " But —if steel could not hold him —" " We'll fit a special bit," he .assured her. Then, raising himself painfully, aware that his escape had been miraculous, he eyed her solemnly. "But at least we are agreed on ono thing now." " That the Aiding bit is not efficient?" Ho wavfid that aside. Something else was shining from his eyes. " What?" It was only a whisper, but it required an answer. Bayard supplied it by raising an arm and drawing her fage gently toward his own.