MY FIRST STEEPLECHASE.

Otago Witness, Issue 1913, 20 July 1888, Page 25

MY FIRST STEEPLECHASE.

It is some years ago since I was at Oxford, and it was when at the university that, I rode my first steeplechase. Notwithstanding the prohibition of the powers that be, it was generally understood by all the recognised sportsmen that the Christ Church " grind " would come off at Aylesbury as usual. We were a sporting lot at our college ; most of us well-to-do, owning hacks and hunters, and fondly we enjoyed a bit of racing. At that time Brasenose men were great rivals of ours, and whether in the cricket or hunting fields, on the river or the cinder-path, both struggled hard to keep up their reputation. There was one particular race at the approaching steeplechase many of us had set our hearts on to win. The conditions were as follows :—: —

THE UNIVERSITY CUP,

Of lOOsovs, added to a sweepstakes of ssovs each for duly qualified hunters, the property of present members of either Oxford or Cambridge Universities; 11.7 each; previous winners penalised; about, three and a-half miles over a fair hunting country.

A lot of us were at a wine party one night, about three weeks before the date appointed for the steeplechase, and naturally conversation turned upon this particular race. Amongst others, Charley Sinclair was present. He was considered the sporting man of j[the college. Possessed of £10,000 a year, he had ample means of satisfying his propensities. " He wa« a big, powerful man, too heavy to ride races, but a real good hand across country, as he would have the best of cattle. He was a great friend of mine, and it was understood between us that if he ran anything in this race I was to have the mount. Close to him was Will Batson, a parson's son, who, on about £400 a year, was living at the rate of £4000. He had bought a couple of thoroughbreds at the beginning of the hunting season, and one had turned out such a good jumper that he had hopes of winning this particular steeplechase himself. Then there was Sir John Martingall and Jack Vavasour there, both of whom were splendid fellows, capital horsemen, nice weights, with good hands and seat. Chatting to them was the Hon. Arthur Nogood,' a younger son, who, although of aristocratic parentage, was a dead sharp. If he made a bet he generally had 6to 4 the best of it ; if he played cards or " the box "he generally left a winner. In addition to all these accomplishments he was a very fine judge of a horse and a really good amateur cross-country rider. There Avere several others in the room, all more or less sporting, but as they have nothing further to do with our story they need not be introduced.

" Well, Batson, you think you are going to win with that thoroughbred screw of yours, don't you ?" remarked Nogood, in a sneering kind of tone.

"Well, I don't know. I've got a good horse, and I will take you 10 to 1 in hundreds I win," replied Batson.

" No ; I'll bet you 10 • ponies,' " said Norgood. " I think ' hundreds ' is above your figure. But I'want to back one of my own."

" What is it ?" I asked.

" Oh, one I bought the other day, named, Centaur. It is standing at livery in Oxford at the present time. I will take 10 fifties about it," quickly returned Nogood.

" I'll lay it you," replied Sinclair, promptly, "Hundreds if you like." "Done," said Nogood. " Hundreds let it be."

Now I knew Sinclair had been drinking rather heavily that evening ; and knowing the hon — or, rather, as we used to call him, the " dis "-honourable — Arthur's character so well, I expostulated, remarking that the betting was rather too heavy between friends. However, it was no use. Nogood held Sinclair to the bet, and jfche latter was too straightforward to back out of it after having once made the offer. Eventually I gox, him away, and took him to his rooms. It was agreed between us that Nogood had got all the best of his deal with Sinclair, as he was certain to ride his best horse, and his own superior jockeyship would make him a good favourite at the start. We could not make out that there would be more than 13 or 14 runners, even counting the Cambridge men. Batson would start and ride his thoroughbred that he called Cavalier, and Sir John Marfcingall would run a couple, one ridden by himself and the other by Vavasour, One of the best horses in the university belonged to Lord Hieaway, of Balliol, but he intended riding it himself, and he was such a poor horseman that it was long odds he fell off before the third fence was reached. Then there was Charley Marshall's Nellie, a nice mare, but scarcely class enough, and it was generally anticipated that Sinclair would run a couple. What they were, no one but himself knew. However, he had a good stable to select from, and it was generally thought that his best would be a dangerous candidate. Perhaps the greatest drawback was the jockey. Sinclair could not ride under 15.7, and your humble servant, who was to steer the crack, although possessing a good name with the honnds, had never ridden in a public steeplechase. Thus altogether, the outlook did not appear very pleasant.

" I shall want you to ride over to Abingdon with me this evening,"' at last said Sinclair to me ; " I must try and win this race. This morning I telegraphed to Yorkshire for

Whitefoot, the hunter I used to ride at the beginning of the season."

Now, I knew. Whitefoot well, and many a capital day had I had on her back. Sinclair had bought her without seeing her, her reputation having reached him from a neighbouring shire. When he got her he found she was not up to his weight, and after riding her once or twice he sent her down to his father's place in Yorkshire, and his young brother had been hunting her all the winter. She had performed such wonderful feats that she was well-known in the MtzwHliam county. Sinclair thought that she would be quite good" enough to win this steeplechase. Whitefoot was thoroughbred, very fast, and could jump like a deer. That evening I renewed my acquaintance with her, and she skimmed over the ground in splendid style. Her low, easy action showed she could stay any distance, and she jumped two or three awkward fences with me in fine style. Sinclair's horses were located at a farmhouse a few .miles outside of Oxford, under the charge of an old" stud groom who once had charge of his father's steeplechase horses. Thus Whitefoot waa in good hands. Sinclair determined on starting another hunter of his. called Simple Simon, who was fast and a good jumper, but had no chance with Whitefoot. During the next week or two I rode her as often as I could in her gallops, and became thoroughly acquainted with my mount. The more I saw of her the more I liked her, and I thought I should nearly win. Thus I backed Whitefoot to win a good stake, and Sirclair, in addition to laying against other animals,, supported her heavily. At last the eventful day arrived, and nothing on four legs was to be had in Oxford. I drove over with Sinclair in his dogcart, with Charley Martingall, Sir John's brother, who was to steer Simple Simon. So as to avoid the inquisitiveness of the authorities I adopted an assumed name, nobody until the last moment knowing who "Mr Burton," the rider of Whitefoot, was. I did not see Nogood or his mount until the preliminary canter. The horse was described on the cards as Centaur, by Monraker, dam's pedigree unknown. Directly I noticed the workmanlike manner Nogood cleared the hurdle, I could see danger was in store, and he would be my most dangerous opponent. We started at the first attempt, and I got away well. With running-making orders, Simple Simon rushed to the front, Whitefoot lying next, Centaur third, one of the two Cambridge men on Tophorn next, with Sir John Martingall's couple, Claret and Old Port, Lord Hieaway's Tally-ho, and the Hon. Arthur Nogood's Centaur in a body. There were 11 starteis, but the second Cantab came to grief at the first fence. With Simple Simon going on, I steadied Whitefoot, holding her back into about fifth place, side by side with Centaur, although I was rather wide on the right, so as to be out of the way of any casualties in front. Young. Batson's thoroughbred hit the second fence, and came down a cropper at the third, the horseman happily being unhurt, whilst Lord Hieaway actually fell off Tally-ho on landing over the water jump. Thus early the field was being thinned out, and I could see that the race rested between myself on Whitefoot and Nogood on his horse Centaur. Indeed the last-named jumped magnificently, and if he only possessed stamina, I began thus early to think, he would win. Simple Simon was cutting out the work at a great pace, as we knew Wbitefoot could stay for a week. I speedily recognised that this would be our main chance. My mount held a good place, two lengths behind Simple Simon, with Centaur about the same distance further in the rear, with the others already beginning to tail off, as the pace had been very »reat. The leader and myself had just cleared the seventh fence — a double post and rails— when I heard a.rattle of hoofs, a thud, and some hard language from Nogood. I quickly turned in the saddle, and saw that the riderless Tally-ho 1 had knocked Centaur over, and that the favourite and his rider were on the ground. I quickly took advantage of this, as I raced away and made the most of my advantage. At the next fence I was some! distance in front of my stable companion, and about 20 lengths in front of Nogood. There remained four more fences and the run-in on grass yet to be got over, and bit by bit Centaur began to make up his lost ground. Now and then I had a look round, and. I could see him gradually gaining and gaining, and there was such a fiendish look on Nogood's face that I determined not to let him catch me if I could help it. Eising at the last fence, I could just see Cantaur's head at my quarters, and being a bit quicker into his stride on landing than Whitefoot was, he got to my girths. 1 5 had never moved, and heartily glad I was when 'Nogood took up his whip. Whack 1 whack I J?whack ! came down the whalebone; but Centaur could do no more. The effort to catch me, and the shaking by the fall, had taken all out of him, and he died away again. Amidst loud cheering, Whitefoot was hailed the winner by three lengths.

An hour afterwavds Sinclair and myself were arm-in-arm, and we met Nogood. He looked very savage and annoyed, scowling at Sinclair nastily. My friend stopped him, and he said, sternly :

"Looky here, Nogood, that was a lucky spill for you, alter all. I know what horse you really rode. It was Chanticleer, the well-known steeplechaser. A man that owed you a grudge, and who since owned the horse, told me your secret. It was a serious offence to enter one horse in another's name ; and, further, the animal in question has won'seven or eight races under Grand National Hunt Bules. Now, you ate a young man just entering life, and I am no*; going to ruin yon ; but you must do one thing. You must take your name off the books at the College, and leave Oxford. On that condition only your secret is safe with me. So this was the last we saw of the Hon. Arthur Nogood. He went abroad for a few years, and as his elder brother was shot in a battle he became the next heir to the title. Still he does not now frequent English racecourses. He prefers the Continent, with the gambling tables at Monaco, and if rumour does not lie, owns rather- a shady reputation over there.

" Have I ever ridden Whitefoot since ? " you ask. Yes ; I have. Sinclair gave her to me for winning that steeplechase, and her name is even now well remembered, and her performances with the Cottcsmore often talked about by the old hands.