Read Online Mrs. Tim of the Regiment by D. E. Stevenson - Free Book Online Page B

cryptically that ‘he won’t half be ratty, but it’s worth it’. Make no comment.
    The second race is Tim’s. We see the start, twelve horses running. Fireguard easily distinguishable on account of red foxy colour and light tail. Smuts says he has ten quid on Fireguard, and invites me to lunch at Giorgoni’s if he wins. If Fireguard loses, Smuts says, he will have to sell his false teeth. Reply facetiously that he won’t get much for them, and then have a qualm as to whether his teeth can possibly be false – if so, have I been rude? Can’t tell whether they are or not as he keeps his mouth shut.
    Loud cries of ‘They’re off’ cut short my meditations, and the horses sweep off down a field. Cries of ‘Black Witch – Black Witch leading’. See a huge black mare in front. Horses disappear over a hedge.
    Major Morley is standing by himself with field glasses glued to his eyes. I wonder how much he has on Fireguard. Smuts points out a field on our left and says we shall see them there in a few minutes.
    Hours elapse. Then three horses appear but no Fireguard. Somebody calls out that ‘Fireguard is down’. Have scarcely time to grow cold with fear before Fireguard appears and seems to be gaining on the others. Smuts bounds up and down on the branch shouting ‘Fireguard’ until I am nearly dislodged. They thunder up to the jump nearest to us. Black Witch is leading, but jumps short, and she and her rider roll over into the ditch. The next two clear the hedge, and Tim goes over in fine style – the rest follow. We are so near that I can see the horses’ rolling eyes and the riders’ frantic expressions – some of the horses are steaming with heat.
    Smuts rushes to rescue the rider of Black Witch who seems stunned by his fall –am so thrilled over the race that I can’t take my eyes off the horses. Away they go over another jump. My Hat pecks and loses distance – there is only one in front of Tim now. Somebody yells, ‘Mr. Maloney – Mr. Maloney’ – am doubtful whether this is the name of the horse or the rider – probably the former. They start on the second round of the course.
    By the time they appear again Tim is in front with a big grey close behind. Smuts says it is Lightning. The grey seems to be gaining on Tim, and they are neck and neck as they go over our jump. Frightful excitement as they tear up the last field to the winning post. Everyone waving their hats and shouting ‘Lightning’ or ‘Fireguard’. Smuts and I scramble off our perch and run back to the winning post to see who has won. We arrive in time to hear everyone shouting ‘Fireguard’, and to see Tim getting smacked on the back by all those sagacious people who backed him. Huge lump in my throat at Tim’s victory feel perfectly idiotic and can’t speak.
    We wait for another race which is rather an anticlimax after the last, as only three horses run, and it is practically a walkover for a squat black-haired man whom nobody seems to know. Then we pack into the cars and return to Charters Towers for tea. Major Morley asks me in a hurt tone where I have been hiding as he looked everywhere for me reply that Smuts and I were in a tree and had a splendid view of the whole thing. Major M. looks surprised and says he wanted to explain the race to me and he had brought an extra pair of field glasses for my benefit. Feel I have been rather a brute.
    He then says – ‘By the way here are your winnings,’ and hands me twenty pounds in rather grubby notes. Am simply staggered at the amount and say so. Major M. says he got four to one for me, and I realise that if Fireguard had lost I should have had to pay five pounds, whereas five shillings was the most I should have risked on the race (the more so as I don’t possess five pounds in the world). My breath is almost taken away by the variety and depth of