1. Remember that many riders beat themselves by over-eagerness.

Well--let 'em, Barnabas.

2. Don't rush your fences, give your mount time, and steady him

about twenty yards from the jump.

3. Remember that a balking horse generally swerves to the left,

Barnabas.

4. Keep your eye open for the best take-offs and landings.

5. Gauge your payce, save your horse for raycing at finish.

6. Remember it's the last half-mile as counts, Barnabas.

7. So keep your spurs till they 're needed, my lad.

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A rayce, Barnabas lad, is very like a fight, after all. Given a good

horse it's the man with judgment and cool head as generally wins. So,

Barnabas, keep your temper. This is all I have to say, or your father,

only that no matter how near you come to turning yourself into a

fine gentleman, we have faith as it won't spoil you, and that you

may come a-walking into the old 'Hound' one of these days just the

same dear Barnabas as we shall always love and remember.

Signed: NATL. BELL.

GON BARTY.

Now, as he conned over these words of Natty Bell, a hand was laid

upon his shoulder, and, glancing round, he beheld the Viscount in

all the bravery of scarlet hunting frock, of snowy buckskins and

spurred boots, a little paler than usual, perhaps, but as gallant a

figure as need be.

"What, Bev!" he exclaimed, "not dressed yet?"

"Why I've only just woke up, Dick!"

"Woke up! D' you mean to say you've actually--been asleep?" demanded

the Viscount reproachfully. "Gad! what a devilish cold-blooded fish

you are, Bev! Haven't closed a peeper all night, myself. Couldn't,

y' know, what with one deuced thing or another. So I got up, hours

ago, went and looked at the horses. Found your man Martin on guard

with a loaded pistol in each pocket, y' know,--deuced trustworthy

fellow. The horses couldn't look better, Bev. Egad! I believe they

know to-day is--the day! There's your 'Terror' pawing and fidgeting,

and 'Moonraker' stamping and quivering--"

"But how is your arm, Dick?"

"Arm?" said the Viscount innocently. "Oh,--ah, to be sure,--thanks,

couldn't be better, considering."

"Are you--quite sure?" persisted Barnabas, aware of the Viscount's

haggard cheek and feverish eye.

"Quite, Bev, quite,--behold! feel!" and doubling his fist, he smote

Barnabas a playful blow in the ribs. "Oh, my dear fellow, it's

going to be a grand race though,--ding-dong to the finish! And it's

dry, thank heaven, for 'Moonraker''s no mud-horse. But I shall be

glad when we line up for the start, Bev."

"In about--four hours, Dick."

"Yes! Devilish long time till eleven o'clock!" sighed the Viscount,

seating himself upon the bed and swinging his spurred heels

petulantly to and fro. "And I hate to be kept waiting, Bev--egad, I

do!"