But this was nothing to the reception he received as he rode in, for the tip as to "Norman Park" had leaked out, the horse had started odds on, and when it became known that he had tried to back himself and failed, a shout of derisive laughter had gone up that made Johnny feel that really the whole world had deserted him.

Seriously his position was bad enough-he had earned the undying enmity of the gang with which he had got entangled, to some of whom he owed money that he could not pay, and they had him in their power in other ways. To do him justice, he hated them and their crooked methods, which had done him so little good in reputation or pocket; but how to live without them was a problem he had not solved, and the thought half formed at the back of his head when he won was, that if he landed the £100 he would perhaps be able to start again clear. Now he had failed, and he knew that few of the racecourses he patronised would be safe for him in future; also he knew that if he tried to stand out on his own, there would be a great difficulty in getting the horses he owned away from Ballymaoshane in safety.

Therefore, even with the comforting words of the young lady with the blue flowers in her hat, Johnny found it hard to put a bold face on things; and although he smiled kindly on her as he took courage to

face the paddock again, he as yet saw no way at all out of his difficulties.

They were saddling for another race, so Johnny received no particular attention as he strolled amongst the crowd, with his under-lip well thrust out and a simulated look of indifference.

He did not see a rather tall, slight young man, cleanshaven, olean-looking, oleanbred, who looked on with an air of detachment and yet of knowledge, who had a quiet nod and a word for many of the racing people, who seemed to be an interested and highly intelligent spectator, whose quiet observant eye had already noted Johnny, and dwelling on him saw that all was not well, and followed him with interest and a little amusement. Then at last Johnny saw him, and his demeanour changed. Coming forward he raised his hand to his hat, and said in a voice that many of his friends would have had difficulty in recognising as his at all—

"Master Jimmy!"

For Johnny had been born and bred within a mile of this young man's home. As a child he had firmly believed that the old house-"the Big House"-was the finest building in the world. He had been taken into it, when a boy, in some capacity which had developed into under-gardener, and finally into stable lad, and the two lads had formed one of those curious friendships between rich and poor which had survived an increased knowledge of the world, its sins, its

wickednesses. As years and experience increased each saw the other for more exactly what he was worth; but the feeling of friendship lasted on, so that these two young men, though widely separated, were prepared to stand by each other when occasion required.

Johnny hurriedly recounted the story of his misfortunes. It may be inferred how strong his belief was in his friend, James de Lacy, when I say that he actually told the absolute truth; and James listened and nodded with a

complete understanding. The horses were now going out for a race and the two were unnoticed. Johnny wound up"I don't know what to do at all, sir, or how to get my horses away from that lot anyway!"

"What have you?" said James.

"There is "Climbing Boy' here now," was the reply, "and I have another young one below in the stable with some of Ned Lalor's and the other chaps'. If I got them away itself, I have nowhere I could take them."

James thought, and at last said "Bring them along to me the mountain way, and don't let any one know where you have gone."

"Bedad, I think I can do it," said Johnny, "and thank you, sir. I knew you would not forget me."

He darted amongst the orowd, found the young lady with blue flowers in her hat, -indeed his eye had been on her all the time,-had a short

whispered conversation with her, and was back in the paddock as the winner of the race came in. The crowd followed the horse to the scales. Johnny took "Climbing Boy's " rein from the lad, and led him out of the paddook unnoticed. He crossed the field to the entrance gate, mounted and rode for the stable where the horses stood. The man in charge knew him, accepted the story that Johnny thought fit to tell, which wound up by saying that he was going to take the horses on then to their next meet at Corofin, which was due in a couple of days, and handed him over his second horse without question. At the same time Mary Burke, his friend with the blue flowers in her hat, strolled down the course, dipped under the fence, and made her way into the town. Here she borrowed a bike, dexterously manipulated her best skirt, and stood out boldly for her father's house, ten Irish miles away.

She arrived there about an hour before Mr Deery was seen riding in leading his second horse. He was bestowed in a stable which seemed to have been hurriedly got ready. The horses were made comfortable. Johnny's bodily wants were attended to, then he stretched himself in the straw and was soon asleep.

With the first dawn of the summer morning the stable door was was stealthily opened, and man and horse being refreshed, Johnny mounted and rode down the road, whilst his staunch friend Mary waved

him adieu. She was absolutely the only one who knew of his visit, for her father, who had won money at the races, returned in a glorious and expansive mood, in which his only ambition was to explain to all and sundry his intimate knowledge of racing, and her mother was too much taken up in shepherding him and getting him to bed to ask many questions; besides, she well understood the value of the saying"Ask me no questions and I will tell you no lies."

James de Lacy stayed for the last race. He did not bet, but seemed to follow the form closely. He had many friends who were glad to greet this grave young man and pass a word with him, and some of these watched him as he busied himself with his motor-car before he started for his long and solitary drive. Then as he looked around to bid adieu, a smile of singularly attractive sweetness for a moment lighted up his face. His friends drew back apparently satisfied. Perhaps they had waited for that smile, certainly each appropriated it for himself alone.

He turned left-handed without entering the little town, and, leaving the stone wall country, followed the line round the head of Lough Corrib, calm and beautiful that evening, studded with islands, on one of which stood the remains of churches reaching almost back to the time of St Patrick; on another the ruins of a Norman oastle, for here Norman and Celt had fought it out bitterly,

and this was castles.

one of many

The country changed, the low distriot was left behind, and the road entered the hills which from the race-course had been blue on the horizon. Every mile the country became wilder, and the few peasants who were travelling stopped on the roadside as the car approached, unused to the sight of one; but when they recognised James they doffed their hats and shouted a welcome, seeming to think themselves rewarded on receiving a smile in return; for this was his land, not only of the present but of the past. As far as his keen vision could reach, the mountains, the brown moors, the lakes, the wooded islands on the lakes, all had been the possession of men of his race, his name, his manner of form and feature, who for some centuries had ruled this outpost of the Western World, and ruled it well. That was the past, and what their descendant had inherited from them was an old house in the most beautiful corner of this most beautiful country, halfhidden in woods, and surrounded by some hundreds of acres of excellent land-that and a few things that were his alone, which haply he might pass on. The look of gentle blood, the smile, the word, the way, born with him, which had been perfected by centuries of tactful rule, which assisted him to an extent that he hardly suspected in his journey through the world.

As James steered his car

through the mountains that were once the heritage of his race, the thoughts, the romance of the past, blended with the beauty of the present in that golden summer evening, and the struggles, the meanesses of life, the scene that he had just left, seemed for the moment as of another world. He drank in the romance, the purity and strength, which are the gifts of Nature to those who have the understanding to seek them from her. James thought of the past, of his short life and how it was a happy one, and went in the way that he wished it to; how he had entered the army, hoping for active service, which somehow seemed to evade him, and how as he tired of barrack squares and garrison life his thoughts turned more and more to the home he loved, Then came his father's death; he returned to settle things, but still determined, if it were right, to resume the life he had found distasteful. But what he really loved and understood were horses. He thought he saw in the expert breeding of blood-stock that there was a future, so whilst he spent his leave, shot, and fished, he mused on this and worked out problems on it in figures.

But the days went by and he was still musing. The day arrived when he came down the steps to get into his car to go, but he missed his mother, and knew at once that she had not dared to face the parting. He found her in the garden with her head in her hands. As she lifted her head, her face,

for the fraction of a moment, showed the despair of her heart, and then she was serene again.

"Yes, Jimmy," she said, "I was a coward and ran away, but now I shall say good-bye to you as I ought to."

"You are not going to say good-bye to me now," he said, and he felt her hand tremble on his arm, but she answered in the deep rich tones which are the beautiful heritage of a few women.

"No, Jimmy, you are not to allow yourself to be influenced by an old woman. You have your place to take in the world, and you must go out and take it."

But James had much to say on this point; through that long day they threshed out the question, and in the evening the old lady sat trembling with happiness, wondering fearfully if what was done was right. James sent in his papers, reserving himself, however, as ready for his country's call, bade adieu to his friends, and taking in hand the life he loved, never from that day looked back.

Now as he neared his home his mother awaited him in the old grey house, full of the memories of his ancestors, which was kept so carefully and well. She had, when old Thomas the butler had gone out for his evening gossip in the stables, flitted unobtrusively into James's room to see if the things, the exact things he liked, had been made ready for him. She had dressed herself carefully, almost hand