Harding and Gardiner were a half-dozen years younger than Furness, and it was not many years since I had trained them for very much the same kind of games as those of the afternoon. Harding was a big fellow, with broad shoulders, and a mop of yellow hair. He had been a mighty good man in his day with both "shot" and "hammer." Harry Gardiner had been a sprinter,--one of the best starters I ever knew,--and a finisher, too, which does not always follow. The Colonel got along very well with them all,--a little reserved at first, and studying all three of them in a very quiet way. He could sometimes not quite make out what Harding, who had a very choice vocabulary of Americanisms, was driving at, and one or two of Tom's jokes he failed utterly to comprehend; but he seemed to understand the men themselves fairly well, nevertheless. We chatted together a few minutes, and then Furness declared it was time to start, producing cigars which would have tempted a modern Adam more than any apple in the Garden of Eden. So the Colonel and myself left the others, and were soon comfortably ensconced in a clean hansom, behind a good piece of horseflesh, and bowling along toward the Queen's Club Grounds at a very respectable rate of speed. We enjoyed our ride very thoroughly, and arrived at the Comeragh Road entrance almost too soon, for the crowd was only beginning to gather. We obtained programmes, and entering the gateway found ourselves in full view of the grounds at once. A mighty fine sight they were, too, the stretch of level greensward, hard and velvety, with the dark brown cinder-path encircling it. The seats rose on all sides but one, and there, outside the fence, was the fringe of waving trees, and the red brick houses, trim and neat. Over all was the soft blue sky, with here and there a drifting cloud. I could see the Colonel's eyes glisten. He had spent the best part of his life in a country which alternated between the baked brown clay of the dry season and the wild luxuriance that followed the rains. He went to the very outside edge of the track, and took a careful step or two on it, examining it with the eye of a connoisseur, for he knew something of a track, although he had not seen one for many years. "'Tis fast," said he, knowingly. "With the heat and calm the conditions are right enough, and the men will have nobody to blame but themselves if they do not come close to the records."