somely, and the selection of the jewels to go with her dress had given her some moments of thought; now as she sat in the deep drawing-room window looking out on the summer evening, and by the woods to where they opened on the lake beyond, it is doubtful if this old lady, who had the experiences of a beautiful and well-loved girl behind her, had ever really been much happier. She rose 88 her son entered with the grace which she was born to, and which is not to be acquired, and as she passed through the hall on his arm, old Thomas, who when James was a little boy had many times carried him in his arms, threw out his chest and looked straight to the front, the picture of an old family servitor.

Mrs de Lacy, the daughter of an Irish peer, was proud of her dinners, which were of the studied and artistic nature dear to the hearts of those of Latin or Norman blood. They dined at a small round table, the simple appointments of which were perfect, placed by the deep window, where they could look out on the golden sunset and the reflection of the trees in the still lake. She told him of her garden which she loved, and how she had gone round the young horses in the afternoon, and how the threemonths-old foal, by "Nebat," out of the Connemara mare, had galloped to her and jumped a wall, tucking his legs under him like an old hunter. But she said, "I am afraid the Edgar filly is not

very well, and I told Andy the groom to take her in and watch her." Here old Thomas joined in the conversation, and said that Andy thought there was nothing to signify the matter with her, and Thomas gave his own opinion, for, like all butlers of his class, he fancied himself in the matter of horseflesh.

Jimmy told of his day, how Willie Fitzwilliam stood them all a champagne lunch, and finally, with a good deal of humour, of Johnny Deery's misfortunes ; whereat old Thomas had to retire behind the screen to master his feelings, and Mrs de Lacy, who came of racing stock and understood, laughed so lightly, so youthfully, that the red setter dog who lay on the hearthrug raised his handsome old head with the light glinting in his brown eyes, and beat his tail on the ground in sympathetic approval.

"But poor Johnny," she said, "how would he know better? You will do something for him, Jimmy?"

"He will be here to-morrow," James answered, "and I hope to put him on his legs somehow."

And next day as these two sat at breakfast Johnny rode "Climbing Boy" into the yard, leading the young horse, bestowed them in the stables that were ready for them, attended to their wants, and before the day was out had taken his place in the household as if he had never left it.

The rage and indignation of Johnny's confederates when they realised that he had given

them the slip and got away with both his horses may be imagined, but cannot be adequately described in these pages. They called down ourses upon him, they spoke of him as an abandoned little profligate, an unscrupulous and heartless little sharper, who had betrayed his best friends and deprived honest men like themselves of their hard and scanty earnings; they Vowed vengeance upon him, and this took them to the worst point of the indictment-that he had taken advantage of the absolute absorption of the population of Ballymacshane in the races to slip away quite unnoticed, without leaving the slightest olue as to what part of the province of Connaught, let alone the Kingdom of Ireland, he had headed for. None of their friends could throw any light on this point, and it was then that they really bewailed their fate one to another, and pointed out, in dolorous chorus, how their racing campaign, which was only just begun, was almost ruined-how their plans, so carefully laid, and the subject of so much thought and discussion for months past, almost since Christmas, were brought to nought by the defection of Johnny and the loss of his horses; and, most of all, they bewailed the loss of Johnny's young horse, the beautiful, the perfectly - bred, the untried "Lomax," whose form they were to have placed the very next week at the little country meet of Corofin. Not, of course, that he was to win, but where

he was to have been given his first chance of showing the stuff that was in him, to be followed up by other trials of a like nature, until at last, having been beaten in many country £25 plates, he would stand up to win the Galway Plate of 500 sovereigns.

This was to have been the climax of their expedition, and they had spoken in awed whispers when they tried to calculate the possibilities of such a coup. They determined that, whatever happened, however it was done, "Lomax" at least must fall into their hands again, or, if this were quite impossible, that they must somehow control his place in the betting.

The loss of "Climbing Boy was taken more philosophically. He was a good horse, but so most people knew, and difficulties had begun to be many in making the proper rangements" concerning him. The confederates, indeed, had begun to think that it was time Johnny sold him "to a gentleman who would want to win the Prince of Wales' Plate or the Conyngham Cup at Punchestown," or would take him to England to run for stakes worth winning, and where it is worth while for the best horse to win. They knew that even the most indulgent Stewards at the most insignificant country meetings may occasionally be goaded into action by the attitude of a crowd that has lost its money by backing the best horse, and that the action of the I.N.H.S. would speedily follow; that their

horses, if not themselves, might be warned off, and their activity anyhow ourbed for a time. Sometimes the gang, whose methods I have striven to elucidate, would combine with another to corner most of the races at some little-known meeting, and when it was arranged between them what favourites were to lose, a comparatively easy business, they were then faced with the real difficulty of what horses were to win. If they had to look only to themselves this might have landed them in serious trouble. But, fortunately for them, there are generally a few local gentlemen who race a little in the summer, and who are out to win. So it would be when the decision was particularly difficult-"Ah, then why not let Mr Fitzwilliam win? sure every one knows he runs straight!" And Willie Fitzwilliam would be gladdened and somewhat astonished to see his horse gallop home a winner in front of a field that he had had but the faintest hopes of beating. Nay, he would sometimes at the last moment be given the tip to back his own horse, as it does not look well for a horse to win unbacked by his owner, and might lead to inquiry. So perhaps it would be his jockey, as he rode out, who would ask him to put a bit on for him, or the broken-down old sportsman who sold cards and pencils would stumble up to him and in a husky whisper say, "I am told, sir, your horse will win to-day"; and Willie, being a knowledgeable man, would

back his horse without further comment.

It may be understood, therefore, that "Climbing Boy," by his honest and consistent running, had almost run himself out of use to these confederates, but that "Lomax," the untried, the beautiful, might serve them by a coup which would pay for all, and keep them warm and well fed during the slack time of the winter. Still, "Climbing Boy" was an incomparable trial horse, so really good, so sound, so generous and ready to do his best. No amount of racing seemed to sour him. He ran to his form all the time; as such his loss was a heavy one, and the gang felt that without him they might sometimes be running blind; besides, he was always a threat in reserve when dealing with another gang, that if their terms were not acceded to they would send him out to win and upset the apple-cart.

It is true that they had in their string a mare, "Sweet Annie," whose form almost equalled that of the horse; but mares are unreliable, and although a careful study of their failings may prove serviceable when they are owned by others, they are liable to be unfit when really wanted, and cannot therefore be depended on.

It was therefore a matter of life and death to them to find Johnny again if he were above ground, or anyhow secure his horses wherever he was. But although they left no stone that they knew of unturned, he had vanished from

their haunts as completely as if the earth had closed over him. He had not been seen at any race-course at all. They sought him as with a fine comb over all the Ireland they knew and found him not, for the racing man of their class turns back from the mountains as completely as the devil turns from holy water.

It was not for several weeks that they at last heard of him, when a member of their fraternity, but not of their particular lot, who had the unusual trait for one of them of an uncontrollable love of fishing, and would steal a day or two for it when he could, returned from one of his expeditions with the news that he had had a distant view of Johnny, and heard he was living in Mr de Lacy's house at Doon; but that he "had not time to find out what he was doing in it."

This interval of grace had been taken full advantage of at Doon. "Climbing Boy" was carefully gone over, and the knocks and blows that he had received in racing and in battering about the country in the rough times that he had experienced, in being hurried from one meet to another, were attended to. The horse was made to feel he was amongst friends, that his stable was his home and not a mere temporary resting-place, that those he came in contact with were his friends, who were intent upon his welfare. He, in

deed, was а bit stale, the result of long days, sometimes nights, in a train, and being

pulled out the next day to race, with perhaps a similar experience to follow; and sometimes after a hard race being handed over to a lad who, if he thought that his masters were too occupied with business or pleasure to go round the stables that night, would perhaps chuck him his food and be off to his own amusements, without even brushing the dirt out of his legs. A less generous horse would have been soured, but he came through his hard experiences still honest and true; and now that he found himself in a gentleman's stable, warm and well fed, well groomed and comfortable, his noble heart expanded with gratitude, and he rubbed his nose on Johnny's waistcoat full of contentment and friendship. He Was rested and happy, and his coat soon shone with the bloom of perfect health. Indeed, Johnny himself had undergone a somewhat similar metamorphosis. moved from the atmosphere of blackguardism, what might perhaps by a stretch of fancy be called his better nature had a chance. Having no more to live at pubs and tenth-rate hotels, to trust to get his meals when he could, and to keep himself going between times by something and a drink, he responded at once to the regular hours and regular meals, and his drinking habits fell from him like a garment, for he was naturally no toper, and he had been taken at the right time. When silver-haired Mrs de Lacy spoke to him kindly he felt that the place where he

Re

was born was the best place, and that it would be good to turn to it again and abandon the rackety life he had been leading.

"Lomax," the young 'un, had been well attended to, and his preparation was now far enough advanced to warrant a trial, so one was run one early summer morning. The secrecy was great, not even the stable lads knew of it, and the result made Johnny's face some inches longer. He had confided to his friend all the great hopes that he had for the young 'un, even reaching to the Galway Plate; and behold, when "Climbing Boy" began to gallop, "Lomax" was left trying his best, but not in it. A similar trial two days later, with the riders ohanged, gave the same result, and when for the third time of asking "Lomax" received a stone, the result was very much the same.

He was a beautiful deceiver, a one-paced horse; later in his career, as a blood hunter, he became absolutely incomparable; but that was his métier, and for racing, he was only serviceable to the bookies as he looked so beautiful in the paddock, that many a racegoer felt he must have a bit on him.

The melancholy of the Celt entirely possessed Johnny as he ruminated on these things in the stable-yard, whilst a lad led "Lomax" round to be surveyed, to see for the tenth time if there were anything wrong in his form.

"I thought I had something

good for you, sir," he said at last, "but I have not, and that's the truth."

"He may serve his turn yet," said James.

Johnny shook his head. "You do not seem to take much stock of the colt I have in the box at the end," James continued.

"He is a nice horse," said Johnny, "but you are ever and always hacking him about the place. Sure it is for that you have him?"

"We'll pull him out now and put him beside Lomax,' and see how he shapes," said James.

"Bedad, he is a nice horse!" said Johnny when this was done, "and the two are the dead spit of one another. Barring the white star and the white hind leg he has, you would be hard set to separate them."

"They are wonderfully alike," remarked James.

They followed the horses back to the stable, Johnny still steeped in gloom.

"So you think we have nothing for the Galway Plate?" said James.

"I do, sir," replied the other, "and there is no use in telling a lie. Climbing Boy' is not good enough, though he might run into a place. We had a mare ourselves would beat him sometimes, 'Sweet Annie' we called her," James nodded, "and I know of another better than she is, if he does not put up a penalty."

"I know of one that will beat them both," said James, "an English horse—' George's