The Sweep Winner Part 19

The building was well adapted for the purpose. A ring was formed and fenced in with stout posts and rails so that there would be no danger to the spectators. On the opening night the place was packed. A challenge had been issued. Two hundred pounds would be given to anyone who could sit The Savage for ten minutes; a.s.sistance would be given to mount.

Fifty pounds was offered for riding half a dozen others, ten pounds for the remainder, all ten minutes' spells.

There were scores of men in Sydney and the surrounding districts who thought they were equal to the various tasks set.

Six well-known riders sent in their names. Two of them came from Wagga with big reputations, and one from Bathurst. They all tried The Savage.

The horse had an easy task, for he was no sooner mounted than he shot riders through the air like rockets. Not one of them made the semblance of a fight with him.

Then Glen Leigh's turn came. He sprang into the saddle without a.s.sistance and the battle commenced. Round and round the ring The Savage bucked in a series of furious leaps. He kicked, squealed, fought desperately, tried to bite Glen's leg, but all in vain; he stuck to his seat in splendid style. The Savage finding these tactics of no avail, threw himself down. Glen slipped out of the saddle. As the horse struggled to his feet he sprang on again amidst a hurricane of applause.

At the end of a quarter of an hour he concluded his exhibition, and when he stood in the ring holding The Savage tight by the bridle, the people cheered him to the echo, and the building rang with the shouts. The other riders were exciting, but paled before the performance of Glen Leigh and The Savage.

As the crowd left the building everybody was asking who Glen Leigh was, and where he came from. He was the most wonderful rider they had seen.

Jerry Makeshift had not given Glen away. He reserved the account he intended to publish for the issue following the opening night. He made good use of the material he had in hand. It so happened that "The Sketch" came out in the afternoon of the next day, and a full account of the "keeper of the fence" was given and the manner in which he had captured the horses and brought them to Sydney.

It was the genuineness of the show that attracted the people, and the place was crowded every night. Money came rolling in and the promoters were in high spirits.

Ivor Hadwin, Bellshaw's trainer, had been a great rider of rough, unbroken horses on his father's station, before they fell on evil times, were ruined by drought and moneylenders, and came to Sydney. On the station he had ridden the worst of buckjumpers, and he thought with a little practice he might be able to stick on The Savage for ten minutes and win the two hundred pounds. For four nights running he succeeded in riding the horses for the lowest prizes. Then he won one of fifty pounds, and Glen Leigh complimented him.

"You'll have to try for the two hundred," he said to Ivor.

"That's what I mean to do."

"Will you allow us to advertise it?" asked Glen.

"Certainly," answered Hadwin. "I've no objections. You've treated me well, and paid me the money I have won."

"We shall always do that, and I hope you have to draw the two hundred, but I warn you The Savage is a demon, and you'll have to keep your eyes open," said Glen.

"I believe at one time I could ride as well as you, but training has made me a bit soft," replied Hadwin.

Strange to say Glen Leigh did not know Hadwin was a trainer. No one told him, probably taking it for granted that he knew.

"You train racehorses?" asked Glen.

"Yes, at Randwick. Come and see me one day."

"With pleasure," said Glen. "Who do you train for?"

Ivor Hadwin smiled.

"I wonder someone has not told you about me," he said.

"I never asked. There is such a heap of things to do I've had no time, and it matters little who wins the prizes," returned Glen.

"I train for Craig Bellshaw," said Ivor.

Glen started. This was strange, especially as the horses all came from Mintaro.

"I know him," he said.

"So do I, too well," answered Ivor. "He's a hard man to please."

"I daresay he is," Glen agreed.

Someone called him away and he left Hadwin, saying he would call and see him next morning.

"I'll be there. Come about eleven," said Ivor.

"What night will you attempt to ride The Savage?" asked Glen, looking back.

"Sat.u.r.day."

"That's the best night for us, thanks."

Glen told Bill what had pa.s.sed between them when he reached The Kangaroo.

Jerry Makeshift was there. "You mean to say you didn't know until to-night who Ivor Hadwin was?" he asked.

"No."

"And you made no enquiries?"

"It didn't interest me. It was part of the show."

"And no one enlightened you?"

"No."

"Well, I'm blessed. That's funny; everybody knows Hadwin. I'm told he's likely to win the Caulfield Cup, or the Melbourne Cup, or both, for Bellshaw," said Jerry.

"Has Bellshaw some good horses?" enquired Glen.

"Yes, about a dozen in all, I think, and four or five above the average, but I don't go in for racing much. Tom Roslyn, of 'The Racing Life,'

told me. He's the best turf judge we have on the press, and he can pick out good horses as easily as I can a bottle of wine."

"Then he must be an uncommon judge," laughed Bill.

"What's the name of the Cup horse?" asked Glen.

"Barellan. He's five years old now, and has a nice weight, so Tom says.

I forget what it is," Jerry answered.

"Here's Nick Gerard's list," put in Bill. "Barellan, 8st. 7lbs., in the Melbourne Cup, 8st. 10lb. in the Caulfield Cup."

"I'll ask Hadwin to let me have a look at him when I go there in the morning," said Glen.

"Have you bought a ticket in the big sweep on the Melbourne Cup yet?"

asked Jerry.