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"Now I 'll bet you two to one he does n't come in second that boy won't get him over the water-jump." "Very well no, I don't want to take odds. I 'll bet you even. I must be a sport." The other protested, while the rest of the party looked on with amusement. "Oh, well, if you insist," said Mr. Newby. "What shall it be?" "A box of the best " "Of the best cigars!" "No; I don't smoke. Candy."
"If he lives over the Liverpool, he 'll get a place," said one of the gentlemen in the club box. "But he can't do it. He must be dead," said Mr. Newby. "There goes one now. The red-jacket 's down." "I 'm out," said Mr. Galloper. "He 's up all right." "He 'll get over," said the girl. "Oh, I can't look! Tell me when he 's safe." She buried her face in her hands. "There he goes. Oh!"
U , J , and I mounted atop, S , nurse, and R got inside, and we bowled off merrily towards the hearts of the hills. It was more than half past nine when we arrived at Newby Bridge, and alighted at the Swan Hotel, where we now are. It is a very agreeable place: not striking as to scenery, but with a pleasant rural aspect.
It stands almost on the shore of Windermere, with only a green lawn between, an extensive hotel, covering a good deal of ground; but low, and rather village-inn-like than lofty. We found the house so crowded as to afford us no very comfortable accommodations, either as to parlor or sleeping-rooms, and we find nothing like the home-feeling into which we at once settled down at Newby Bridge.
Stephenson, at this time, while mentally convinced, was still unsaved, and could be as personal and ironical as Mr. Newby. They argued the point of a sinless life for an hour, mixed a good deal of personal invective into the argument, which drew from the crowd vociferous "ha! ha's!" and they parted without feeling one whit better toward one another than they did before.
I came on to sell him." "Don't you sell him. Don't you never sell him," urged the old trainer. "Keep him, an' le' me handle him for you. You 'll git mo' 'n second money next time." "I 'll give you a thousand dollars for him. What do you say?" Old Robin gave an exclamation. "A thousand dollars! For dis hoss!" The gentleman's friend broke in: "Oh, come, Newby, don't rob the boy.
"He has got to make the Liverpool, and he 'll never do it," said Mr. Newby. "There he goes now. Watch him. Jupiter! he 's over!" "Did you see that jump? He 's got stuff in him!" "But not enough. He 's got to go around once and a half yet." "The blue is leading." "Red-jacket is coming up." "The green is done for," etc. So it went, with the horses coming around the curve for the second time.
"I saw you pull him around." "I was afraid I 'd strike you," said the other, simply. Just then two gentlemen pushed through the crowd. One was Mr. Newby. "Are you the owner of this horse!" he asked the young man. "Yes, sir." He spoke with pride. "Dat he is de owner," put in old Robin, who had the bridle, "an' he owns a good hoss! He got de ambition." "Want to sell him?" "Um-um-hm d' n' know.
But Robert knocked quietly, and Jake opened the door, and before anyone else could speak Robert made his confession, while the Newby children and Kate looked on in amazement. After Jake and Robert shook hands, and the trouble was ended, a strange atmosphere pervaded the Newby home. They had never felt just like that before.
Even the gentlemen about the young girl of the white hat in the club box who had backed the brown horse could not help joining in. "Now, Miss Catherine, where are you?" asked Mr. Newby. "Will you allow that I can pick a horse better than you? If so, I 'll let you off." "He pulled him out to avoid striking those other men," declared the girl, warmly. "I saw him." "Oh, nonsense!
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