A Bayard From Bengal Part 8

Upon which gallant speech the entire air became darkened by clouds of upthrown hats and shouts of "Bravo, Bindabun!"

But upon this the pertinacious d.u.c.h.ess lodged the objection that he was not in correct toggery, and that, even if he still retained his tall hat, it would be contrary to etiquette to ride the Derby in a frock coat.

"Where are his racing colours?" she demanded.

"_Here!_" cried Mr Bhosh, pulling forth the cream and sky-blue silken jacket and cap from his pockets, and, discarding his frock coat, he a.s.sumed the garbage of a jockey in the twinkle of a jiffy.

"I protest," then cried the undaunted d.u.c.h.ess, "against such cruelty to animals as racing an overblown mare so soon after she has galloped from London!"

"Your stricture is just, O humane and distinguished lady," responded the judge, who had conceived a violent attachment to _Milky Way_ and her owner, "and I will willingly postpone the race for an hour or two until the horse has recovered her breeze."

"Quite unnecessary!" said Bindabun. "My mare is not such a weakling as you imagine, and will be as fit as a flea after she has imbibed one or two champagne bottles."

And his prediction was literally fulfilled, for the champagne soon rendered _Milky Way_ playful as a kitten. Mr Bhosh ascended into his saddle; the other horses were drawn up in single rank; the starter brandished his flag--and the curtain rose on such a race as has, perhaps, never been equalled in the annals of the Derby.

The rival cracks were named as follows:----_Topsy Turvey_, _Poojah_, _Brandy p.a.w.nee_, _Tiffin Bell_, _Tripod_, _Cui Bono_, _British Jurisprudence_ and _Roseate Smell_. The betting was even on the field.

_Poojah_ was a large tall horse with a nude tail, but excessively nimble; _Tripod_, on the contrary, was a small cob of sluggish habits and needing to be constantly p.r.i.c.ked; _Tiffin Bell_ was a piebald of goodly proportions; and _Roseate Smell_ was of same s.e.x as _Milky Way_, though more vixenish in character.

Not long after the start Mr Bhosh was chagrined to discover that he was all behindhand, and he almost despaired of overtaking any of his fore-runners. Moreover, he was already oppressed by painful soreness, due to so constantly coming in contact with the saddle during his ride from London--but "in for a penny, in for a pound of flesh," and he plodded on, and soon had the good luck to recapture some of his lost ground.

It was the old fabulous anecdote of the Hare and the Tortoise. First of all, _Topsy Turvey_ was tripped up by a rabbit's hole; then _Roseate Smell_ leaped the barrier and joined the spectators, while _Tripod_ sprained his offside ankle. Gradually Mr Bhosh pa.s.sed _Brandy p.a.w.nee_, _Cui Bono_, and _British Jurisprudence_, until, on arriving at Tottenham Court Corner, only _Tiffin Bell_ and _Poojah_ remained in the running.

_Tiffin Bell_ became so discouraged by the near approach of _Milky Way_ that he dwindled his pace to a paltry trot, so Mr Bhosh was easily enabled to defeat him, after which by Cyclopean efforts he urged his mare until she and _Poojah_ were cheek by jowl.

For some time it was the dingdong race between a hammer and tongs!

Still, as the quadrupeds ploughed their way on, _Poojah_ churlishly refused to give _place aux dames_, and _Milky Way_ began to drop to the rear. Seeing that she was utterly incompetent to accelerate her speed and therefore in imminent danger of being defeated, Chunder Bindabun had the happy inspiration to make an appeal to the best feelings of the rival jockey, whose name was Juggins.

"Juggins!" he wheezed in an agonised whisper, "I am a poor native Indian, totally unpractised in Derby riding. Show me some magnanimous action, and allow _Milky Way_ to take first prize, Juggins!"

But Mr Juggins responded that he earnestly desired that _Poojah_ should obtain said prize, and applied a rather severe whipsmack to his willing horse.

"My mare is the favourite, Juggins!" pleaded Mr Bhosh. "By defeating her you will land yourself in the bad odour of the _oi polloi_. Have you considered that, Juggins?"

Juggins's only reply was to administer more whip-smacks, but Chunder Bindabun persevered. "Consider my hard case, Juggins! If I am beaten, I lose both a _placens uxor_ and the pot of money. If, on the other hand, I come in first at the head of the winning pole I promise to share my entire fortune with you!"

Upon this, the kind-hearted and venial equestrian relented, warmly protesting that he would rather be a _proxime accessit_ and second fiddle than deprive another human being of all his earthly felicity, and accordingly he reined in his impetuous courser with such consummate skill that _Milky Way_ forged ahead by the length of a nose.

Thus they galloped past the Grand Stand, and, as Mr Bhosh gazed upwards and descried the elegant form of the Princess Petunia standing upon the topmost roof, he was so exalted with jubilation that he elevated himself in his stirrups; and waving his cap in a chivalrous salute, cried out: "Hip-hip-hip! I am ramping in!"

"Then," I hear the reader exclaim, "it is all over, and _Milky Way_ is victorious."

Please, my honble friend, do not be so premature! I have not _said_ that the race was over. There are still some yards to the judge's bench, and it is always on the racing cards that _Poojah_ may prove the winner after all.

Such inquisitive curiosity shall be duly satisfied in the next chapter, which is also the last.

CHAPTER XIV

A GRAND FINISH

Happy Aurora is a happy Aurora!

Hip, Hip, Hip, Hip, Hurrah! Hurrah!

_Dr Ram Kinoo Dutt (of Chittagong)._

On the summit of the Grand Stand might have been observed groups of spectators eagerly awaiting the finish. Conspicuous amongst them were Princess Petunia (most sumptuously attired) and her parent, Merchant-prince Jones; and close by Duke and d.u.c.h.ess d.i.c.kinson, following the cla.s.sic contest through binocular gla.s.ses.

"_Poojah_ will prove to be the winner!... No, it is _Milky Way_!... They are neck or nothing! It will be a deceased heat!" exclaimed the excited populaces.

And the beauteous Petunia was as if seated upon the spike of suspense, since Mr Bhosh's success was a _sine qua non_ to their union. Suddenly came the glad shout: "The Favourite takes the cake with a canter!" and d.u.c.h.ess d.i.c.kinson became pallid with anguish, for, rich as she was, she could ill afford to become the loser of a cool million.

The shout was strictly veracious, for Mr Bhosh was ruling the roast by half-a-head, and _Poojah_ was correspondingly behind. "_Macte virtute!_"

cried Princess Petunia, in the silvery tones of a highly-bred bell, while she violently agitated her sun-umbrella: "O my beloved Bindabun, do not fall behind at eleven o'clock!"

And, as though in answer to this appeal (which he did not overhear), she beheld her triumphant suitor saluting the empress of his soul with uplifted jockey-cap.

Alack! it was the fatal piece of politeness; since, to avoid falling off, he was compelled to moderate the speed of his racer while performing it, and Juggins, either repenting his good-nature, or unable any longer to restrain the impetuosity of _Poojah_, was carried first past the winning-pole, Mr Bhosh following on _Milky Way_ as the bad second!

At this the Princess Petunia emitted a doleful scream; like Freedom, which, as some poet informs us, "squeaked when k.o.c.kiusko (a j.a.panese gentleman) fell," and suspended her animation for several minutes, while the d.u.c.h.ess "grinned a horrible ghastly smile," as described by Poet Milton in _Paradise Lost_, at Mr Bhosh's shocking defeat and her own gain of a million, though all true sportsmen present deeply sympathised with our hero that he should be thus wrecked in sight of port on account of an ordinary act of courtesy to a female!

But Mr Bhosh preserved his withers as unwrung as though he possessed the hide of a rhinoceros. "Honble Sir," said he, addressing the Judge, "I humbly beg permission to claim this Derby race and lodge an objection against my antagonist."

"On what grounds?" was the naturally astonished rejoinder.

"On the grounds," deliberately replied Chunder Bindabun, "that he surrept.i.tiously did pull his horse's head."

Juggins was too dumbfoundered to reply to the accusation, and several spectators came forward to testify that they had personally witnessed him curbing his steed, and--it being contrary to the _lex non scripta_ of turf etiquette to pull at a horse's head when he is winning--Juggins was very ignominiously plucked by the Jockey's Club.

The d.u.c.h.ess made the desperate attempt to argue that, if Juggins was a pot, Mr Bhosh was a kettle of equally dark complexion, since he also had reined up before attaining the goal--but Chunder Bindabun was able easily to show that he had done so, not with any intention to forfeit his stakes, but merely to salute his betrothed, whereas Juggins had pulled to prevent his horse from achieving the conquest.

So, to Mr Bhosh's inexpressible delight, the Derby Cup, full as an egg with golden sovereigns, was awarded to him, and the notorious blue ribbon was pinned by the judge upon his proud and heaving bosom.

But, as he was reverting, highly elated, to the side of his beloved amidst the acclamations of the mult.i.tude, the disreputable Juggins had the audacity to pluck his elbow and demand the promised _quid pro quo_.

"For what service?" inquired Chunder Bindabun in amazement.

"Why, did you not promise me the moiety of your fortune, honble Sir,"

was the reply, "if I allowed you to be the winner?"

Mr Bhosh was of an exceptionally mild, just disposition, but such a piece of cheeky chicanery as this aroused his fiercest indignation and rendered him cross as two sticks. "O contemptible trickster!" he said, in terrific tones, "my promise (as thou knowest well) was on condition that I was first past the winning-pole. Whereas--owing to thy perfidy--I was only the bad second. Do not attempt to hunt with the hare and run with hounds. Depart to lower regions!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE NOTORIOUS BLUE RIBBON WAS PINNED BY THE JUDGE UPON HIS PROUD AND HEAVING BOSOM (Ill.u.s.tration VIII)]