“Following the Baron.”

New Zealand Illustrated Sporting & Dramatic Review, Volume V, Issue 211, 9 August 1894, Page 3

“Following the Baron.”

“ Well how will your system work now ? What will win next year’s Derby ? ” It was Roland Myers who asked the above question; it was addressed to Jack Pointsford, and, as he was standing next to me, I overheard it. The Middle Park Plate of 1870 had just been run, and the winner’s number —Albert Victor—was being hoisted. “ What was third ? ” asked Pointsford. “ Hannah ? Well then Baron Rothschild will win his first Derby.”

! perhaps you can tell us what with < 7’’ sneered Myers. “ Zephyr colt,” replied Jack calmly. That was the first time I ever heard the horse mentioned. Myers was evidently as much astonished as myself, but in half a minute he thought he saw his way to making a bit out of Jack’s superstition. “ I’ll lay you three thousand to a hundred you’re wrong ! ” he exclaimed eagerly. “ Right. Book it I ” was Jack’s reply, as he took my arm and turned away. “ I hate that fellow,” he said, as soon as we were out of earshot. “ I hope that no accident will happen to the colt between this and next Derby Day. It will be a real pleasure to despoil the Israelite.”

“ But don’t you think that you are carried away by your superstitious belief that the stable that runs third for the Middle Park Plate wins the Derby ?” I ventured to suggest. “ Likely enough. But own that it is a curious coincidence that it has happened so frequently since this great two-year-old race was started, and Hermit won the Derby after Knight of the Garter in the same stable was third in the race here. Besides, I have a good account of this Zephyr colt. You back it.”

Pointsford, myself, and a friend named Murray owned a litte racing stud of some twelve or fifteen horses between us. They were trained in a small Yorkshire stable, where, except our own; there were

not half a dozen other horses. Amongst these we had that year two Beadsman colts, one of which, if he could have been trained, would have been near the top of the tree. As it was, when but two parts fit, he had beaten some smart youngsters. Beauty, the other, was due to run in a Nursery the day after the Middle Park Plate, but we had tried him a slow, sluggish brute, and, though given nearly bottom weight, we did not fancy him at all. “ Stick one spur in, and never take the other out, and make every post a win-ning-post,” Pointsford said to the lad who was about to ride the colt, as we three owners looked in at his being saddled. “ We’ll just put a pony on between us,” Jack added, “and then stick to the rails to see the race.” Never did a lad carry out his orders more strictly. We had scarcely taken up our position to watch the race, when the horses came in sight. Beauty was then leading three or four lengths, and the boy continuing to drive him along, he eventually won in a canter by about half a distance. We suddenly awoke to the fact that we had been entertaining an angel unawares. A week later we had a home trial, having purchased a smart horse so that there should be no mistake. Again did the despised one win easily, giving his half-brother a stone, and beating him and our trial horse six lengths. The Zephyr colt was forgotten. We had a Derby horse of our own now. All that winter things went veil. We first picked up all the hundreds to one that were to be had about Beauty for the great Epsom event, and then took the sixty-sixes. Amongst others who laid against the horse was Roland Myers. One day Jack and I happened to meet him dining at a restaurant. “ I must have a bit more out of my friend over there,” muttered Pointsford. i. “ Better not,” I whispered back. “He has already laid long odds, and may put it about that we have a rod in pickle.” “ Nonsense ! ” exclaimed Jack. “ Anyway, I can’t resist the temptation.” As we had finished dinner, I strolled out, and presently my partner rejoined me. “ The fellow’s laid me another sixty ponies,” he chuckled. “ Asked me how we had tried the colt. Like his impudence I” A fortnight after this—just before Newmarket Craven Meeting—l ran up to our training quarters, chiefly to see that our Derby outsider was all right. To my surprise I found two new horses stabled next to Beauty. “ Belong to a Mr Bogus-Frost,” our trainer explained. “ Colonel Blink introduced him by letter, but I ain’t seen the gent yet. He wrote telling me to get ’em forward, and he would run over when he could spare time.” Well, there was nothing to be said against this; but Bogus 1 Ye gods! what a name ! A few days later, the Zephyr colt won the Newmarket Biennial, and at once took rank with the favourites for the Derby. And now our ill-luck began. Pointsford had one besetting weakness, which broke out on occasion. This was gambling. On the turf he never lost his head, but place cards before him and he became thoroughly reckless. One morning, just at this time, he came into the rooms Murray and I shared, and calmly informed us he was utterly broke. “So what will you fellows give me for my share in the horses ?” Of course we could not listen to this, so -as the only alternative we could think of, we determined to enter our crack in a small handicap, so that Jack might get back his losses over a certainty. Doncaster (Saring) was the meeting we fixed upon, and, having selected handicap, we wrote and entered Beauty, then and there. “ It’s awfully good of you fellows,” Jack said, when it was arranged. “ It’s not only the money, but I lost it to that little cad, Myers. Could not resist the temptation of having a shy at him, you see.” We did not go down to Doncaster till the morning of the race, and on looking at the card I noticed to my surprise that Mr Bogus’ Spinster was entered for the same race as our horse. Of course we plunged over our Derby outsider, but I noticed that the pencillers fielded very strongly. Bar accidents, of course, it was a certainty for ours ; but there was the accident, that is, it was called so, for Mr Bogus’ Spinster ran into Beauty at the bend, knocking him over and herself too, which was more than her jockey intended I fancy. Anyway, our horse ricked his back, and never ran again. So there ended our chance of winning a Derby and a fortune ! On making inquiries I found that Bogus was a properly registered name, but it was not till later that I found the real owner was Myers.

It was a heavy blow, for Murray and I had to find Jack’s money as well as our own. There was but one chance left for him, the Zephyr colt, which, besides the £ 3,000 he stood to win from the little Jew, he had backed heavily during the winter. “ Tell you what it is,” I remarked to Murray as we drove to Victoria. “If the horse don’t win we must come back at once and break the news to our friend. I believe Jack means suicide if he loses.” It was not till we got into the train that we heard that the Zephyr colt has been christened Favonius. It was a splendid race, that is for those who had backed Fovonius. We had both been hard hit at Doncaster, but for Jack we knew it meant simply salvation. On going to send him his wire I found such a crush that, having the telegram already written out, I passed it over to a friend who was nearer the window. Happening again to met him a quarter of an hour or so later, I asked him if he had sent it. “ Had to do the same as you, old fellow,” he answered. “ Could not get near the window, so passed it on to a man I knew who was just sending on a wire. You remember him— Myers his name!” All of a sudden, the joy, the exciter ment of the great win died out of me. felt something was wrong. It was no good arguing with myself that nothing could be wrong; each moment I became more nervous, till at length I could stand it no longer, and without even looking for my chum, left the stand, sprang into the first trap I could find and galloped to the station. By good luck I caught a train just on the point of starting, and we ran up to town without a stoppage. Another hansom, another sharp drive; and I was at Jack’s diggings. As I mounted the stairs I met a telegraph coming down. The outer door of the chambers was not closed, but I heard the key turn in the lock of the sitting room as I approached it, “It’s all right, Tack,” I shouted; “ Favonius has won!’’. . No answer. I threw myself against the door. As it burst open I heard the crack of a revolver. I remember thinking I was too late, and then actually against Jack, as I stumbled into the room, and being thankful that he was yet on his legs. “ You have won, man, don’t be a fool I shouted, throwing my arms around him; but he struggled like a fiend to shoot himself. Presently he suddenly became limp and fell on the sofa, for, although my bursting in on him his hand shake, the bullet had groove® his side, and he had lost a good deal oF blood. I bandaged him up and gave him brandy and water, and at length he began to comprehend that Favonius and the Zephyr colt were one and the same animal. “ But what about your wire ?.” he whispered. I found the telegram on the floor, ami, read, “ Awfully sorry ! Favonius There was no signature. “ Myers ?” whispered Jack, after a pause. I nodded. < “Do you think I am quits with him now ?” he asked, after a little while. “ You will be after the settling on Monday.” " . “ Then tell him to remember abou'tf thethird in the Middle Park Plate and turning over Jack fell asleep.— Sporting and Dramatic News.