"Winning Through,”

Wairarapa Daily Times, 17 September 1934, Page 7

"Winning Through,”

CHAPTER NXVI. Mary stood behind Betty, put her hand on her shoulder and held it firmly as the horses paraded. Happy Days Avas number sixteen. She wished Harry Avould look up, but ho Avas staring straight in front of him betAveen the horse’s ears. Through her glasses she thought he looked terribly pale; imagination, perhaps! Betty Avas also looking at him through her glasses. Was he really feeling frightened and sick? she avoudered. Of course, he looked Avonderful, and as they cantered to the post he just seemed to be part of the horse. Happy Days stood like a rock a 3 the field lined up; she remembered Avhat the horrid man in check breeches had said; that he looked half asleep. It seemed as if they’d neA r er line up propertly. Mary said, “This is the Avorst part —it Avill be all right once they’re off . . .”

A sudden roar: “They’re off!” No, it Avas a false start. Forsyth said, “Dammit, AA r liat’s that brute lashing out? The field’s too big; they ought not to alloAV these horses that haven’t an earthly. Noav they’re all together noAA r —yes —they ’re off. ’ ’ A thunder of Amices, and as the voices died aAvay the thunder of hoofs on the turf. Betty stood up, she couldn’t keep the glasses to her eyes, her hands shook so. She couldn’t sec Happy Days, only a mass of horses charging doAvn the course, brilliant blobs of colour against the slate roof of the grey sky. The sun had gone in; everything seemed A r ery dark and bleak and cold. Noav there Avas silence, the only sound the noisy beating of her heart.

1 They’d reached the first fence, I Easter Boy leading as he always did. He was over safely, the rest of the field : seemed to come in a mass. They were I all over. She began to breathe normally again, remembering wliat Harry | had said; but she couldn’t see him, I couldn’t distinguish his colours anyI where. She said to Forsyth, who was I' standing on her right, his glasses glued to his eyes: “Can you see Harry?”

“Yes, my dear. He’s lying with the last half dozen —going quite nicely.” I She put up her glasses, just as they took the second fence. Two horses refused, three fell. She saw the gold and purple jacket —he was over, but now he was lying last. At the ditch two horses ran out, another. Happy Days cleared it beautifully. “Jumping like a stag,” Forsyth said. “Harry’s riding him well, too.” lie was still last —20 lengths behind the leaders. The field had thinned out; two more horses down now. They were coming to Bechcr’s Brook. Betty dropped her glasses and shut her eyes. She was a coward but she couldn’t help it. She heard a murmur of voices; someone said: “Ho took a nasty toss.” When she looked again there were only about fifteen left. Easter Boy out by himself, Bright Penny pursuing him. At the Canal turn Big Lad fell, another horse refused. Betty waited until they were approaching the stand. Now there were only nine. She could see Easter Boy was going strongly as they passed right beneath her, then came a chestnut, Gay Girl, and Bright Penny a length behind, the other horses together and Happy Days close, behind. There was a confused roar of voices from the ring; the names of the leading horses were called. < One voice rose shrilly: “What price Gay Girl? I’ll back the favourite. Who -wants Happy Days? Fifty to one Happy Days —” And in answer to the challenge a deep voice shouted: “I’ll take yei, Bill! Five fifties, Happy Days!” At the fence and ditch one horse mado a bad mistake, turned a somersault and brought down two others. Betty saw a confused mass of men and horses on the ground as Harry came up. Happy Days cleared the fence, avoided the fallen horses cleverly. Only six left now in the field. She heard Forsyth say, “He’s got a chance still, my dear. Jumping like a bird. If only he’d got the pace!” Now they were at the canal turn again, people were rushing about the ring beneath the stands, odds were being shouted and taken; the roar of the crowd was continuous; and then on the top of it came a shout. Something had fallen, no one could sec what it was. “Bright Penny!” was shouted, and then “Easter Boy!” Now they were coming up the long straight stretch with the canal on the right. Only four more fences. Betty felt Mary’s hand on her arm, holding it in a vice-like grip. “Look, Harry’s beginning to ride! Oh, look, he’s passed Bright Penny, darling; lie’s lying third.” “He’s sure of a place now anyway,” Forsyth said. “I’m afraid ho won’t catch Easter Boy.’’ As lie spoke the favourite pecked at the brook, recovered himself cleverly; something was coming up fast, one of the outsiders: “Wallflower!” Happy Days was alongside her and plodding away, just plodding away. Harry low in the saddle. Now there were only two more fences. Easter Boy was over, only three lengths ahead. Happy Days and Wallflower took it together. Everyone was shouting the favourite’s name. “I’ll take three to one! Three to onc —the favourite wins! I’ll take three to one!” Betty put down her glasses. They were unnecessary now. She could see the colours quite clearly. Happy Days and Wallflower racing together. Easter Boy coming up to the final fence. He Avas over —but he took it sideways; the horse was tiring; the next horse over was Happy Days, Wallflower Mist behind. Harry was riding now, with his hands; he hadn’t used his whip yet. The jockey on the favourite looked round. ' Happy Days was gaining on him. “By gad, it’s a race!” someone cried. “The favourite’s not Avon vet ! ff Easter Boy’s jockey was ridimr for all he Avas Avortli, the horse Avas rolling from side to side. Happy Days Avas plodding on, plodding on, quickening his pace gradually, going straight ns a gun barrel. Noav lie Avas only a length behind Easter Boy. The air shook, the grand stand seemed to quiver Avitli the uproar from the Ring. “Come on, Easter Boy! Come on! 'He’s beaten! Happy Days! Happy

COPYRIGHT. PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

BY ARTHUR APPLIN. (Author of “Storm Driven,” “The Woman Who Doubted,” “The Dangerous Game,” etc).

Bead —• “THE SPELL-BINDER” BY MARY BRADFORD WHITING. It will begin in these columns on Tuesday next.

Days! I’ll back Happy Days.” They were a hundred yards from 1 ‘ the Avinning post. Happy Days Avas on ‘ Easter Boy’s quarters. Harry took 31 up his whip. He hadn’t touch it till ’ then. J Betty leaned out of the box. 3 “Come on, Happy Days!” she cried. 3 “Happy Days! Happy Days! Happy Days!” And from the vast moving mass of L humanity beneath her she heard the r cry taken up. “Happy Days! . . . . ' Happy Days! . . . Happy Days!” And ' distinctly she heard a voice that eeho- ; ed above the roar, John’s voice, her ! father’s voice: “He Avins! . . . He : Avins! ” Neck and neck, only tAventy yards 1 from the post, but Easter Boy Avas ■ done and Happy Days Avas going 1 strongly ahead. In a very quiet voice Forsyth said: “Harry’s Avon.” “Not yet, not yet!” Betty almost sobbed. And he repeated: “Harry’s Avon. Look!” Then, and only then, Harry and his horse made their great effort. Happy Days shot past the post a length in front of Easter Boy. They cheered him, the old grey, the discarded flat-catcher, Evington’s castoff; bought for thirty pounds by Harry Gaunt. They cheered the horse and the rider again and again. They liked pluck and courage, these people, and they kneAv a great-hearted horse when they saw one. And then they looked up at Forsyth’s box and cheered the girl avlio Avas leaning out, the girl whose romance had been passed from mouth to mouth, the broAvn-hair-ed girl AAdtli blue eyes avlio sold chocolates in a shop. “Come doAvn,” Forsyth said. “You should have led him in, you knoAV. ” “I can’t moAm” “Take my arm, my dear. ’’ 4 With Mary on one side and Betty on the other, Forsyth Avent doAvn the staircase. They Avaited till Harry had Aveighed in. When he came out Harry gave Happy Days a hearty smack and a lump of sugar and then, heedless of the crowd, he took Betty in his arms. “Happy Days —always iioav darling, for all of us!” (The End.) BEAUTY’S SPELL. The more honourable and chivalrous a man is, the more easily he becomes the'Metim of a Avoman like Mrs Lorraine. She has the advantage of knoAving his type Avhilst he is ignorant of hers. It Avould never occur to a man like Daryl Burke to suspect that a Avoman’s motive in seeking his friendship is the sordid though common one of material gain. A decoy, a “spell-binder” employed by a gang of shady financiers to charm valuable secrets out of the hearts of impressionable men —such is Mrs Lorraine’s occupation. The game is as old as civilisation, and her A T alue to her associates lies in her ability to play it to perfection. So long a decoy, Mrs Lorraine forgets that she is a woman and commits the fatal mistake in one of her type « of alloAving her heart to rule her head. What she Avants is information concerning the site of a South American dockyard. Someone sells the information—and Daryl Burke is suspected. I-loav could it be othenvise in the circumstances?