"Never," said the squatter, firmly; which, as he had never judged before
in his life, was strictly true.

"Well, we'll each go our own way," said the little man. "I'll keep points.
Send 'em in."

"Number One, Conductor!" roared the ring steward in a voice like thunder,
and a long-legged grey horse came trotting into the ring
and sidled about uneasily. His rider pointed him for the first jump,
and went at it at a terrific pace. Nearing the fence the horse made
a wild spring, and cleared it by feet, while the crowd yelled applause.
At the second jump he raced right under the obstacle, propped dead,
and rose in the air with a leap like a goat, while the crowd
yelled their delight again, and said: "My oath! ain't he clever?"
As he neared the third fence he shifted about uneasily, and finally
took it at an angle, clearing a wholly unnecessary thirty feet.
Again the hurricane of cheers broke out. "Don't he fly 'em," said one man,
waving his hat. At the last fence he made his spring yards too soon;
his forelegs got over all right, but his hind legs dropped on the rail
with a sounding rap, and he left a little tuft of hair sticking on it.

"I like to see 'em feel their fences," said the fat man.
"I had a bay 'orse once, and he felt every fence he ever jumped;
shows their confidence."

"I think he'll feel that last one for a while," said the little dark man.
"What's this now?"

"Number Two, Homeward Bound!" An old, solid chestnut horse came out
and cantered up to each jump, clearing them coolly and methodically.