Well, he's down safe as far as the start, and he seems to sit on pretty neat, Only his baggified breeches would ruinate anyone's seat — They're away — here they come — the first fence, and he's head over heels for a crown! Good for the new chum, he's over, and two of the others are down!
Now for the treble, my hearty — By Jove, he can ride, after all; Whoop, that's your sort — let him fly them! He has n't much fear of a fall. Who in the world would have thought it? And are n't they just going a pace?
Little Recruit in the lead there will make it a stoutly-run race. Lord! But they're racing in earnest — and down goes Recruit on his head, Rolling clean over his boy — it's a miracle if he ai n't dead. Battleaxe, Battleaxe, yet! By the Lord, he's got most of‘ em beat —
Ho! did you see how he struck, and the swell never moved in his seat? Second time round, and, by Jingo! he's holding his lead of‘ em well; Hark to him clouting the timber! It do n't seem to trouble the swell. Now for the wall — let him rush it. A thirty-foot leap, I declare —
Never a shift in his seat, and he's racing for home like a hare. What's that that's chasing him — Rataplan — regular demon to stay! Sit down and ride for your life now! Oh, good, that's the style — come away!
Rataplan's certain to beat you, unless you can give him the slip; Sit down and rub in the whalebone now — give him the spurs and the whip! Battleaxe, Battleaxe, yet — and it's Battleaxe wins for a crown; Look at him rushing the fences, he wants to bring t'other chap down.
Rataplan never will catch him if only he keeps on his pins; Now! the last fence! and he's over it! Battleaxe, Battleaxe wins! Well, sir, you rode him just perfect — I knew from the first you could ride.
Some of the chaps said you could n't, an’ I says just like this a’ one side: Mark me, I says, that's a tradesman — the saddle is where he was bred. Weight! you're all right, sir, and thank you; and them was the words that I said.
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