The Sweep Winner Part 35

"No," replied Glen as he walked away.

Bellshaw sent a curse after him, then turned to the jockey.

"If you can't win it doesn't matter about riding him out for a place,"

he said. "There's no sweep money attached to it."

Nicholl made no reply.

"Do you hear what I say?" snapped Bellshaw.

"I heard; I shall have to ride him out."

"You'll do as I tell you."

"I shall ride Barellan out," said Nicholl firmly.

"Against my orders?"

"If those are your orders, yes. I am not going to run any risks."

"What risk would you run?"

"I might be called up before the stewards to explain, and I'm not going to risk that for you or anyone else."

"You hear what he says," Bellshaw said to the trainer.

"He'll have to ride him out. There's no help for it. Besides, there's big money for the places," answered Hadwin.

"I don't want place money if he can't win. I want to keep that fellow Leigh from winning if Barellan can't come in first," said Bellshaw.

"I thought so," said Nicholl.

Bellshaw did not stay to see his horse leave the paddock. He went back into the ring. He was in a vile temper, which his trainer's confidence in Barellan did not soothe. Leigh had got the better of him. He knew it was no empty threat when Glen said he would be put on his trial for manslaughter if evidence were given incriminating him. He hated Glen Leigh. His animosity was so great he would have scratched Barellan had he dared. He intended paying him out. The best way to wound him would be through Mrs. Prevost. He cared nothing for her sufferings, even after all she had been to him. He was a man without feelings.

He was not quite sure whether Leigh would keep his promise if Barellan won. There was Lin Soo. What did Leigh know about him? The paper found under his bedroom door at Mintaro had warned him, and Leigh mentioned it again in the hotel. He must see Lin Soo on his return to Sydney, but first of all he would go to Mrs. Prevost's again and inform her he had enlightened Glen Leigh as to her past life, would gloat over her distress, make fun of her, then offer to be on friendly terms with her again. He had no doubt she would accept.

He stood alone in the ring listening to the calling of the odds. Roland was a firm favourite. Isaac, Painter, Out Back, Adelaide, The Gong, Rosehill, Canterbury, Crocker, Thane, The Rival, Jack, and Mackay, were all well backed, some at long odds, and rank outsiders at a hundred to one each.

The name of Barellan was seldom called by the bookmakers. Bellshaw wondered why? Had they laid his horse heavily before he met with his accident?

He went to Gerard and asked the price of his horse.

"Full against him," replied Nick.

"You mean you won't lay him," said Bellshaw.

"Take it as you like."

"Do you expect him to run well?" asked Bellshaw.

"I expect him to win," answered the bookmaker. "I hope he does for Leigh's sake."

Bellshaw made some remark about Leigh being a bad lot.

"He's a straight goer. It's a pity there are not more like him," said Nick.

"Perhaps it is. Even if he wins the sweep he'll soon lose it. Probably you'll get most of it, or some of your fraternity," retorted Bellshaw.

"You don't know the man. If he wins he'll stick to it, take my word for it," said Nick.

Barellan's price was a hundred to eight, and no longer odds were obtainable about him. This was not tempting enough for Bellshaw, so he made no further investment.

Jack was knocked out to a hundred to one for some reason or other. His trainer did not understand it as he thought the horse had a fair outside chance.

Glen Leigh was missing. Bill and Jim could not find him.

"He's best alone until after the race," said Bill. "He must feel a bit queer about it; I should."

"So should I," agreed Jim. "Fancy standing to win all those thousands for a sovereign; it makes a fellow's mouth water."

"He'll do something for you if he wins the first prize," said Bill.

"He's not mentioned it."

"No, it's not his way, but he will, depend upon it; I shouldn't wonder if he gives you his share in the show."

Jim thought of Clara and what he would do if such a stroke of luck came his way. Glen Leigh had gone on to the top of the stand close to the press-box, where he would have a good view of the race. He wished to be alone. His feelings almost overcame him. He saw Jerry and Tom Roslyn in front of the press-box, and was glad they had not noticed him.

There was a dull roaring sound all over the course, the voices of thousands of people talking before the race, mingled with the shouts of the bookmakers. A sea of faces met Glen's gaze as he looked across the course. Far away, on the other side of the ca.n.a.l, people were camped on the slopes, waiting for the big field to come out. At the back of him, on the hill, there was a dense crowd reaching down to the top of the stand; he turned round and looked at the surging ma.s.s. To his right, below, was the ring, and paddock; he saw a ma.s.s of heads on Tattersalls'

stand, and just caught a glimpse of a colour or two in the paddock. On the lawn people were still strolling about in groups. The race, most of it, could be seen from the terrace and the slopes. Presently, when the horses came round the bend for home there would be a rush to get on the rails. Still further to the left was another stand, on which there was plenty of room. Late lunchers were still under the vines, but were now making a move towards the terrace and stands. A long streak of bright green, the course, stretched out between the crowds. A solitary horseman cantered down. It was the starter going to the post; then the clerk of the course came along, on an old chaser, and went after him. Already there were one or two in the stewards' stand. Near the weighing room diminutive men were going about; they were the jockeys weighed out for the race. It was an animated glittering scene; many-hued costumes, the brightest of colours, the daintiest of designs, artistic creations, the labour of clever women and clever men, and hats and sunshades almost too dazzling to feast the eyes upon, as the glorious sun poured his rays down from the cloudless sky. It was an ideal day. A faint breeze, tinged with sea air from the bay far away, cooled hot cheeks, and blew delicately through thin blouses and skirts. Men moved about in all sorts of headgear; but there were no regulation top-hats, although in the Governor's Box "a bit of Ascot" was seen. It was Glen Leigh's first Melbourne Cup, and the sight at Flemington entranced him, threw a glamour over him, and he looked at it all and fancied himself alone, even in the vast crowd. And he had drawn Barellan in the big sweep.

Would the horse win? Would No. 33444 be the successful ticket? He had it in his pocket. He pulled it out and looked at it, thinking how wonderful it was that if Barellan won he could cash it for nearly twenty-five thousand pounds.

CHAPTER XXVI

BARELLAN FALLS BACK

Glen's thoughts wandered. The heat and excitement made him drowsy. For a few minutes he dozed, and as he did so his mind went back to the days when he was a keeper of the fence, on the border line between New South Wales and Queensland. Surrounded by thousands on Flemington course he slumbered peacefully, as men will when overcome with some powerful feeling, that acts like a drug, and for a few minutes there is oblivion.

His thoughts wandered far away. He was back once more on the glittering wire fence, with Ping, and Spotty, waiting there in the blazing heat for his mate to meet him and compare notes. There had been no rain for months; everything was parched, and dried up. He saw thousands of dead rabbits, and sheep. The stench seemed to be in his nostrils. The scene changed. He was looking in at his hut and saw the woman on the bed. In a few seconds he went through the struggle for a life again, the ride to Boonara, the tussle for brandy with Bill Bigs, Jim's arrival, and keeping watch, Spotty's attack; then the convalescence and the journey to Sydney. His meeting with Mrs. Prevost, Bellshaw at Mintaro, the search and capture of buckjumpers, Lin Soo, The Savage, the show, were all jumbled up together when he came out of his temporary swoon with a start, rubbed his eyes, and stared round him at the bustling scene, hardly daring to believe he was not back in reality on the fence. He gave a sigh of relief, and was wide awake again. He could not have been asleep for more than five minutes, and he had gone through the experiences of half a lifetime. It was strange. He had not quite shaken it off when the horses came out of the paddock on to the track, and the sight caused the past to vanish.

All eyes were turned on them as they cantered down the course to the starting post. There were thirty-one runners; it was a big field, and half of them were considered to have chances.

Jack, knocked out to a hundred to one, was first out, his jockey wearing a green jacket, yellow belt and cap; then came half a dozen more in a cl.u.s.ter. Isaac, the Derby winner, pa.s.sed, going in great style. A tremendous cheer greeted Roland, the favourite. His owner's black jacket, white sleeves, and red cap were popular; the colours were always out to win. Painter, Plume, and Out Back followed, then Glen saw the sky-blue jacket and red cap, and his heart beat rapidly. Barellan went slowly at first, then burst into a gallop, pulling hard, reaching for his head, but Nicholl would not let him go. Glen watched him through his gla.s.ses, until he reached the post, thinking how much depended upon him.

Barellan was carrying his fortunes. If he won what a change there would be in his life. If Jerry had not suggested his buying a ticket probably the opportunity would have gone by. Certainly he must be remembered if Barellan won. Had he not bought the ticket, and, with it, luck?