HIS BEST HORSE.

Otago Witness, Issue 2287, 30 December 1897, Page 34

HIS BEST HORSE.

(By G. G., in the Sporting and Dramatic News.)

Ifc is always a pleasure (especially aFter a prolonged dinner) to hear sportsmen talk about the wonderful horses they have owned in their time and about what they did with them ; how well they rode before they lost their dasb, and what stupendous sums they backed them to win when not " out for a holiday," having then a "neddirg" arrangement with the riog almost to any amount ; whereas now — but no matter ! The sense of contrast -is often painful. We must not be too hard on the old fairy tales. Most of us have tried our imagination in that way, particularly on the subject of horses ; and every man — judging from his conversation with congenial friends, who don't believe his statements even after dining with him — has had some gees. He begins to babble about them Tvhen his other attainments have left him.

It is, alas ! too true that when we reach a certain age — for the benefit of spinsters it is described as an "uncertain age" — our pleasure is chiefly found in reminiscence. We do not boast about present enjoyments, probably not being able to afford any ; but on those of the past we expatiate with overwhelming eloquence. If there are strangers unfamiliar with our record presenb, we often excite a feeling of wouder in their miuds ; friends change the subject.

But what I like to hear a man talk about is his best horse ; the one that carried him in the first flight with-' hounds for eight seasons (or more if the audience is guileless) without a fall ; or that other one which beat a large field at Newmarket in a trot, and won an immense fortune for hi» owner in addition to the stake, being subsequently sold at a fabulous price to a new millionaire just before he broke down.

There have been such equine champions ; and old Major Starcbton told me the story of one, with curious discursive comments of bis own. The major is a sort of raconteur whom we may believe up 'to a certain point. If the truth answers his purpose, and is not inimical to his material interests, and does not attenuate the attraction of his recital, he loses the truth for its own sake, and is content to give his imagination a well-deserved rest. But if veracity threatens to become monotonous (which is often the case) he takes no ri*ks for its preservation. Conversation with him is a relaxing pastime, if one has a credulous mind.

Having no fear of mischievous consequences from bis play of faney — for I had done a little in that line myselt — I asked the major if he could tell me which was the best horse he ever had. I mentioned, as an inducement for him to tell me, that if he wished to embroider the details at all I should not the less sincerely appreciate his kindness.

"Of course I can tell you which was my best horse," he replied promptly, "but I don't know that I shall."

He frowned at me.

" Oh, do," I pleaded earnestly, having my own interests to serve, for a story is a story, especially after you have sold it. Then I added, " I'm sure that your be3t horse must have been a very good one— a champion, in fact. " The etory, if judiciously given to the world, would delight, probably exalt, the public mind."

"O£ course, if I tell you," answered the major cautiously, thinking apparently how much he could invent as he went along, " it will bo in strict confidence — ib will go no further."

" Certainly not, most emphatically not," I replied; "you may depend upon my absolute discretion."

And the story told to me was Buch a good one, so full of actual human interest and the vivacities of life, that I have great pleasure in passing it oa for the benefit of the com*

munity, being convinced that it will be appreciated by all sporting readers who enjoy a good story even if it does not happen to be slightly improper. This is all right. After my promise of reticence Major Starchton seemed to be distinctly encouraged. He looked up at the ceiliDg for a few moments with a 6ort of seasick expression, as many amateur vocaliots do for inspiration, or to diccover whether the roof is likely to fall upon them before they begin — couiummation devoutly wished for by all present before they have finished. Then StarchtoD, with a lasb lingering glance upward to make sure he was safe, said : " You don't expect much for your money in a general way. If a man lends you a sovereign, you thank him firofr, and then ask him to treat you. Some men have a terrible manner with them when they want anything. Now, you wi»h to know which was the best horee 1 ever owned. You will desire to be informed next, I suppose, which was the finest woman I ever loved and the biggest fool I ever met. Ob, no, I don't mean you. Yodr thirst for knowledge is insatiable."

"It's not for my own sake," I began in a broken voice, when the major interrupted me somewhat rudely. " N«ver mind what "or how much you're doing it for," he exclaimed; "if you expscted to get nothing, nothing would be done. The bast horse I ever owned I had some years ago, ai d never won a race with him ! Don't look shocked. It's gcspel ttu'h, if I may never tell another."

Bearing in mind the choice edition of "Fairy Tale 3 for Good Folks," which it is my ambition to give to the world at a popular prica if my intellectual stcength does not fade soon, I called out with suitable dramatic gesticulation, to as to encourage Starchton : " The story, the story ! My kingdom for the story ! Wbat the world pinrs for is stimulating fiction, Ibet us assist in the work of stimulation." Thus adjured, the major began to speak quite quickly. He eaid, " All right, here we go. It was years since at B>rmoutb, and I had captured a soiling race with a weedy filly that I wanted t j get rid of ; she made a noise. The owner of the second would have her, not knowing his business, and we did nob re6tr<un him. Then, as the quarter of an hour allowed for claiming a horse out of a selling race had nearly expired, who should come running up to me in great haste but my jockey, a sharp, intelligent lad, and he begged me to go at once and claim a three-year-old uunamed colfc thab bad tun in the race won by my jady filly. ' What do you kir.ow, Jack?' l said; 'ours was very bad, and the thiee-year-old is apparently worse. On this form he's riot worth finding.'

" 'Don't you believe it,' replied my jockey, with an air of conviction — ' I kuow something. Tbis colt is as fat as a prizs bullock blown out in every pore for Islington, and yet I noticed how well he ran iv the latt race while he could run at oil. I had my eye on him. Ho's a wonderful turn of speed, and when properly trained is sure to win a race. Go aud claim him, guvnor, at once.' I did so, and hisja'e owners never left off abusing me in most; violent language until I departed from tho course. When I got the colt home and looked him over I saw-that he was perfectly sound, though prodigiously fat, and I began to clip some work into him in order to remove the blubber. I was training my own horses then. He improved rapiOly, and I soon saw that I had claimed a very cheap horse. I called him • Tha Bargain,' with a foolish notion that it w.uld express to some extent my appreciation of a bit of luck when — say once in 45 years or so — it happened to come my way." "The name was very neaV I remarked, smiling sweetly, " you dtse.ved to wiu something after being so funny. And what was the next event ?■*. Wtre yon warned off for stopping the horse before his time and for backing something e'se in the race, or were you just beaten on the pott because jour eminent jockey had anticipated you, and had backed something else on his own account ? "

The major did nob seem to admire my genial reading ot his character. "Your base surmises are groundless," he said with dignity. " I like to run horses out on their merits when that policy promises to be lucrative, aud I vrould trus-t my jockey with untold gold if I had him chained up so that he could not reach it. Well, to hark bask a little, for I am afraid we have been overrunning the line, I tried • The Bargain,' after a time, to be a eort of ' BniH3her,' and I had all the information about him to myself. No one but me knew how good he was. I was very pleased. Then the question naturally arose what to do with my champion for the best — the beat for tnyac-lf exclusively, of course, and the worst for others who might lay against him.

"Naturally I considered the problem witb^ great care, aud at last organised what appeared to be a useful programme. I selected first; » good handicap for the horse to perform in, where the company was sure to be good, and whero there would be no danger — you understand — in haviDg him conspicuously down the course. My desire was that the public should not bo induced to take an exalted view of his merits, so that on a future occasion, when his mission was conducted with more orthodox aspirations, I might h&ve the market to myself and get a truly beneficent price to all my money. The game is often played like that by those who understand it." The raconteur paused as if to see wbafc I thought of the game and whether I shuddered at one of tho players. He may have been disappointed. " There are tricks in every trade," I remarked genially; "that is why I'm sorry I never was iv trade. I might have been a trickster with the others, and thus caused my family less frequent exasperation in regard to their weekly supplies. I am afraid that in racing, as in business, everyone does not go perfectly straight at all times." "You can't get overloaded with money in that way," said Starchton, ignoring the fact that he had not been overladen in the other way, or, if he had, he had spent his surplus in a hurry. It was suspected, when he left tho army, that somebody would suffer. _ • After a pause, not for reflection, but for his second wind, the major continued :

" The first part of my racing programme worked out all right. I sent ' The Bargain ' to the post for the big handicap nob quite so fit as he could be made. Nobody backed him ; he had no price in the quotations. He ran entirely without distinction. He got badly off, yet, turning into the straight, Home distance from home, he collared his field quickly. His jockey had then a chance to see how strong he was in the muscles of his forearm. It was a good job he was some distance from home. Lord love you, how the horse did pull ; but it was not to be. His determined jockey screwed him into the heels of the leading division, and kept him there on the raiU ; he could not get through. He was not in the first five at the finish, and, ah me, no one was less depressed than his misguided owner.

"After the race the jockey came to me, looking very artful and well satisfied with himself. 1 That's a nica horse of yours,' he said, winking straight in fcont of him, so that nobody but me could see the scintillation ; ' he's sure to win a good race when fit ami well and — backed. Wben be lifts done a thorough preparation, and

his owner thinks it's time he came to the front, I should like to ride him for yon, and you can back him for me. Why, bless my sou), he's quite the very hottest I've been on for a long time.' " I told the jockey thab ib would be all right, that he should ride. Then I had only jusb washed my front steps, as ifc. wore— that is, I had only just removed the perspiration from my brow — when I was accosted somewhat too familiarly by old Danny, the punter, who once owned horses — you know, he who always declares he won the Derby with one that wasn't placed. Danny, who is a good judge in running when not harassed by watching the struggles of his own crocks, s»id jokingly : ' You'll slip him, sir, some day, no doubt, to give the bookies a treat, and then we shall all be there to help you back him. You won't be the only ono in it, with, all the deserving puntera looking at yon from afar. Bast my buttons, what a 'oss 1 If the reins had odl/ broke ! ' • " I did not consider these remarks were called for— certainly I had not called for them — and I told Danny to go somewhere, giving him the address of a person who would accommodate him cheaply if he mentioned my name. His reply happily is not material to the afcory. Afterwards I devoted epeoial attention to ' The Bargain,' and got him wonderfully fit. He improved in a remarkable manner. I entered him in a big handicap up. north, and engaged the jockey who rode him before to oblige again, though ihi-s tima with a nobler ambition.' " I never stood to win so much money in my life ; I considered the race an absolute certainty for mine. But there is no such thing as a certainty in racing, or the boosts wouldn't carry so much flesh. You know what the north country jockejs are — not too particular how they ride against one from the 'south. la this race, it eeemed, they were all going for oae of, their own ; and coming round the last bend, just as my horfo was coming out to win the race, they took cave of him effectually, closing in on him^frboth sides, and giving him no chance. To make matters worse, something struck iuto him and nearly cut one of his hind feet off. He wasn't in the firet three." Here tho major groaned, as well he might, considering what his suffering had been, and how heroically he had since tried to pay his way. " Your best horse, too," I murmured in consolation — " what a pity ! And couldn't you win with him afterwards ? " "1 eoulda'b train him afterward?, and he never ran again," said Stirchton ; " but undoubtedly he was the best hcrse I ever had, for I never knew how good he really was. At home, whatever wo asked him bo do he did easily, and — and he never won a race '. "