"Well, it ain't one of the classic events. It were run over there."
Docker jerked a thumb vaguely in the direction of France. "At a
'Concours Hippique,' which is posh fer 'Race Meeting.' Our orficers
arranged it just afore our troops left the area, and nacherally fixed
it fer the most awkward time fer me an' Nigger Rolf, being just between
paydays. After payin' to go on the course we'd only got five francs
left fer investment purposes. Nigger wanted to plunge right away, but I
stopped 'im.

"'No,' says I; 'we don't know 'orses, but we does know mules, leastways
as much as anyone does know mules. Let's scoop on this.'

"'An' I showed 'im the programme, which said:--

"'5.30.--THE BALAAM STAKES. For Government Mules ridden or driven by
British N.C.O.'s and men during the War.'

"We walked round the course an' tumbled acrost Ping Brown, got up _ong
chevalier_.

"'Aw-aw, Donoghue' says I, 'is it worth while backing you for a cool
thou for the Balaam?'

"'Well,' says he, 'I'm riding Perishing Percy. If it wus a clog-dancing
competition it 'ud be easy money, but bein' a race, back any one, even
the starter, sooner than me.'

"Then I met Spruggy Boyce, who useter drive with me in the Umpteenth
Field Ambulance.