another like him,' he says."

We were nearly at our journey's end, and we turned through a gate
into the home paddocks. Some young stock, both horses and cattle, came
frisking and cantering after the car, and the rough bush track took
all Alfred's attention. We crossed a creek, the water swishing from the
wheels, and began the long pull up to the homestead. Over the clamour of
the little-used second speed, Alfred concluded his narrative.

"The old bloke advertised," he said, "for another driver, a steady,
reliable man to drive a twenty horse-power, four-cylinder touring car.
Every driver in Sydney put in for it. Nothing like a fast car to fetch
'em, you know. And Scotty got it. Him wot used to drive the Napier I was
tellin' you about."

"And what did the old man say when he found he'd been running a racing
car?"

"He don't know now. Scotty never told 'im. Why should he? He's drivin'
about the country now, the boss of the roads, but he won't chance
her near a circus. Thinks he might bump the same elephant. And that
elephant, every time he smells a car passin' in the road, he goes near
mad with fright. If he ever sees that car again, do you think he'd know
it?"

Not being used to elephants, I could not offer an opinion.

THE ORACLE

No tram ever goes to Randwick races without him; he is always fat,
hairy, and assertive; he is generally one of a party, and takes the
centre of the stage all the time--collects and hands over the fares,
adjusts the change, chaffs the conductor, crushes the thin, apologetic
stranger next him into a pulp, and talks to the whole compartment as if
they had asked for his opinion.

He knows all the trainers and owners, or takes care to give the
impression that he does. He slowly and pompously hauls out his
race book, and one of his satellites opens the ball by saying, in a
deferential way:

"What do you like for the 'urdles, Charley?"

The Oracle looks at the book and breathes heavily; no one else ventures
to speak.

"Well," he says, at last, "of course there's only one in it--if he's
wanted. But that's it--will they spin him? I don't think they will.
They's only a lot o' cuddies, any'ow."

No one likes to expose his own ignorance by asking which horse he refers
to as the "only one in it"; and the Oracle goes on to deal out some more
wisdom in a loud voice.

"Billy K---- told me" (he probably hardly knows Billy K---- by sight)
"Billy K---- told me that that bay 'orse ran t