blood on him she fainted straight off without waiting to
know if it were his own or not. Both looked as good as dead; but Dad,
with a bucket of water, soon brought them round again.

It was scarcely dawn when we began preparing for a start to the races.
Dave, after spending fully an hour trying in vain to pull on Mother's
elastic-side boots, decided to ride in his own heavy bluchers. We went
with Dad in the dray. Mother would n't go; she said she did n't want
to see her son get killed, and warned Dad that if anything happened the
blame would for ever be on his head.

We arrived at the Overhaul in good time. Dad took the horse out of the
dray and tied him to a tree. Dave led Bess about, and we stood and
watched the shanty-keeper unpacking gingerbeer. Joe asked Dad for
sixpence to buy some, but Dad had n't any small change. We remained in
front of the booth through most of the day, and ran after any corks
that popped out and handed them in again to the shanty-keeper. He did
n't offer us anything--not a thing!

"Saddle up for the Overhaul Handicap!" was at last sung out, and Dad,
saddle on arm, advanced to where Dave was walking Bess about. They
saddled up and Dave mounted, looking as pale as death.

"I don't like ridin' in these boots a bit," he said, with a quiver in
his voice.

"Wot's up with 'em?" Dad asked.

"They're too big altogether."

"Well, take 'em off then!"

Dave jumped down and pulled them off-leaving his socks on.

More than a dozen horses went out, and when the starter said "Off!" did
n't they go! Our eyes at once followed Bess. Dave was at her right
from the jump--the very opposite to what Dad had told him. In the
first furlong she put fully twenty yards of daylight between herself
and the field--she came after the field. At the back of the course you
could see the whole of Kyle's selection and two of Jerry Keefe's
hay-stacks between her and the others. We did n't follow her any
further.

After the race was won and they had cheered the winner, Dad was n't to
be found anywhere.

Dave sat on the grass quite exhausted. "Ain't y' goin' to pull the
saddle off?" Joe asked.

"No," he said. "I AIN'T. You don't want everyone to see her back, do
you?"

Joe wished he had sixpence.

About an hour afterwards Dad came staggering along arm-in-arm with
another man--an old fencing-mate of his, so he made out.

"Thur yar," he said, taking off his hat and striking Bess on the rump
with it