LITERATURE.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 4864, 1 December 1883, Page 4

LITERATURE.

o - THE DABK HOB9E.— A TALE OF THB MELBOURNE BAOEOOUBSB.

(Tfcs Laaitr.) " Ihe old plaoe must go, there ia no other -ray ont of the difficulty; horses, cattle, •heep, all the fair land the dear old dad ■worked so hard to get together in the early -days, and I shall have to commenoe life in do wnright earnest." Thus bitterly musing, I arose from tho ohair, in whioh I Bad been sitting np all night, sorting papers, examining •accounts, and going into finanoial matters in a -more thorough manner than I had ever done in my hithorto free and careless manner of life. I stepped ont on the broad verandah of my old bush home. Ihe sun was just rising, and the level rays streamed athwart a true Australian landscape, not a soene of great beauty, perhaps, but poss <■ - ng. in my eyes a value that the most lovely >t on earth oould never possess. For was I > »t abont to lose itt Until the previous ni. & that stern faot had never truly oome home to me. I was in an awful hole. It matters little how I got •there— open honse, running horseß and baoking them, unlimited 100 and the fascinating nap., taken in oonjunotion with bad seasons and the low price of stook, had landed me in a fearful mess, from whioh I oould see no poßeible extrication. I was at least £10,000 to the bad ; and although I oonld pay 20s in tbe found by selling off everything, still I should aye nothing left but a few hundreds with whioh to oommenoe life afresh. I strolled through the garden, and meohani«aliybent my steps in the direotion of the •tookyard, into which one of the men waa -running the horses. There they were, old favourites and new ones— the pony I had ridden when a lad, the old stook horse, who had carried me ao well that long day's muster away up in the ranges ; the hunter for whioh I had only lately paid 100 guineas. Ah! ahould I ever forget that blissful fifteen minuteß, when the Czar and I had the Melbourne hounds all to ourselves, not another sonl within two fields of na Well, he would have to go, and some mor-n-d cad, with the neat of a tailor and the I .uds of a nancy, would ride him next seaioi .. The joys of the obase were no longer fox me, and as for raoing, the « Flat," or at best the " Hill," would be my plaoo next Melbourne Cup. My dismal reflections were brought to a close by a Vbioe at my side saying— ' " That thera Smuggler colt looks well, air." ' As I turned and greeted the owner of the ■voioe with a "Morning Dan," all my troubles eVaporated, like the light mists of the early dimmer morn, for mortal man could not look into that cheery, weather-beaten faoe without feeling the better for it. They used to say in the men's hut that Dan had been an " old nand," that he had in very early life made a mistake about a horse. Suoh may have been the ease ; Dan oame from a County (Yorkshire) where, I am given to understand, mistakes of a similar nature do at times oconr ; but, freo or bond, ha had been our faithful servant for many years, and a more careful, sober, 'cute, and honest joung man never took carry oomb in hand or buckled spur to heel. "That 'oss is a wonder," continuod Dan. " O' course, we alien knowed he waß uncommon fast on the flat, from the oxample -he made of the field at Tarn_gulla last meeting, but I never knowed he oould jump before yesterday." " Have you been trying him over fences ?" J inquired. <il I have, sir," was the concise answer. -*' You Bee it was this way. * I took him out yeßterday, aocording to your orders, for exercise, and I thought, as the Czar wanted work, I might aa weU put Brily Bowe on him, so that the pair of us could go round the fences, and lee if thoro was any o* the panels down. Both 'oases was uncommon fresh at startin', and tho way that colt buoked was a caution. It took me nearly all my time to sit him — tried to -bolt, too, when he had dono bucking ; bai: although I am a hold un, there ain't a many as oan get away from me, when I hare a mind to be maßter. Well, sir, we goes round the fencoß, and bs we was coming back, I says to Billy— « Billy,' says I, « I believe this colt oan jump. Give us a lead ovor yon throe railer.' You know the fence, Bir, round the Big Bwamn Paddook." I norl-'ed, and Dan continued". "'Go ahead, Bilv,' I says. Billy turns his 'obb'b 'ed for the fanoe, and as soon as the Czar sees what w;-.s wanted he makes one of them tremenjnß rushes of hia for the jump, like as though he meant to heat it. * Steady him, Billy,' I yells out. I hadn't time to say no more, for the oolt goes np alongjide like a flash. I oould no more 'old him than a ohild, and from the set of his ears I knew he meant to have that fence, but whether ib would be under, through, or over, _eemed the toes up of a penny. I knowed the wust t'ring 1 oould do was to haul his 'ed about, bo I just Bat still, and there waa tho pair of us, Billy and me, a raoing for that big fence for all the world like we wos riding a steepleohase and had oome to the last jump into the straight. Twenty yards away I felt him shorten hia stride, and then I knew we was right. Lord, the bound he made when he got hiß distance most chucked me out of the saddle, it did. He landed yardß in front of The Czar, and then h_ tucks his 'md legs under him, and away he goes jnst as if he 'id been ueo J to it all hio life. "Oomo on, B )'v,' I sings ont; 4 a beo line for 'ome, lad j ' ')1 give you a load this time," and off we go?- . I never see the like of it— the way that yu...-i$ 'oss took every fenco I put him at — never made a mistake ; and we went away from the Ciar jußt as we liked. Ha waß regular hout of it j and," concluded Dan, with slow and solemn emphasis, " if that 'oss don't land you a big stake some d3y, I'll gite you leave to o-.1l mo a fool." "He will never win anything for me, Dan, whatever he may do for others," said I, sadly. " I am going to sell the station and all the atook." " Sell the station 1" exolaimed Dan, a look of blank astonishment and consternation driving all tbe colour out of hiß ruddy, wholesome face. " What would t' oud master have saidP" " I oannot help it, Dan," wbb my miserable reply. " Would that I could. Things have been going from bad to worse for some time ■past, and ir. is only lately that I havo had the moral courage to look matters fairly ia the faoe. Tho station and all that's on it muat be .sold. -"Doan't cc, now, doaiA '•*» do it. sir," said Dan, imploringly. The H fellow, when deeply moved, alwayß res -ted to bis old oounty dialect. "Thou mi • -*■ hifc on aummat, air," he oontinued, " th.i 'ull thingß straight." "Dang it all, I've got it; thore' 8 t'colt; there's a certin fortin in that young 'o;s. Have another flutter for it, sir. If it is only properly managed, you can't go wrong. I tell'ee there is not hiß equal in Australia. On the flat ho is good enough for most anything, and I never see hia equal over the sticks. Enter him for the steeple the next Bpring meeting, train him on the quiet up hero, get all the -.oney on yon oan, and dang mar •buttons, if we doan't skin t'lamb I'll eat toss." Pan's Toice rose, the healthy red toturned to his cheek, and the sparkle to hia keen bluo eyeß. He se**mod so confident of the correctness of his judgment, bo certain that the oolt had wonderful qualities lor a steeplechaser, that in spite of my Belt I oonld not help feeling in some measure infected with his enthusiasm. But I protested -that it Boomed absurd to imagine that a young and almost untried colt oould have any Bhow, no matter how light he got in, with suoh horses as he would meet at Jflemington. " It do, oir, it do at fi Bt Bight seem absurd, but look at the colt's brooding. Ihere never Was one of that breed yet that did not take ■laterally to j ampin. Thon look what foot ihe'a got. It may be that he haß never beaten any of tho craoks, for why, cos he haß never been tried, but then his time teats are first.lasa; and aa for oonstitution, he has never .been siok or sorry for an hour." " Ab, but bow about hia temper, Dan ? " M Well, sir," replied Dan, slowly and somewhat unwillingly, "he ain't just a lamb as zegards thut, but he never got the better of -ane yet, though I dew acknowledge that he Wonld ba a naaty customer for one as did not know him to tackle." «' Well that Bettles it," I said, " for, if he is raoed at Flemington his jookey must be a stranger to him, and it's 60 to 1 he ever gets him to start." "I don't sco why his jookey should not know all about him," replied Dan. "Oh, you don't," I said, querulously. 41 How do you think he in to beoomo aoviuainted with all his littlo • t-culiarities when •tbe probability is that he v. • I never have Bet eyes on tho hoTve * out of *.__ saddling padd«ckf"

•* Because, said Dan, quietly, " tbe ms* as will ride that oss is the man as brought him to this station from Kirk's Bazaar, handkd, bitted, broke, trained and won a raoa on him, and that man's me." "Oh, oome,*' I Bhouted, "this is tooabsurd. Why, man, you don't suppose because you have ridden in a few up-oountry raoes that you are good enough to ride against the best jockeys in the Oolony ; they would have you down or beaten before you had gone a mile." "Now look here, sir," said Dan, still quietly, "Tou just think this over; and if you oan see no other way of getting things right, send for me, and don't forget, eir, what the old master once said when I rode The Earl for him at Oheston and won. " You are a born jookey, Dan,* says he, "and if you had taken to the pigskin as a profession you would have been at the top of the tree j .and if ever there was a judge of riding my old master was one. If you think the same, sir, old Dan will show you and the Melbourne jooks that his head, hands, and judgment are as good now as twenty years baok." •„ " I will think it over,* Dan," I answered ; "tell ore of the men to put the saddle on Marquis. I am going out on the run after breakfast." (To be continued.) — M— M— M— MW^F"^* MM| ~* t - Tf ~*'~'~''-*^