It was a critical moment when Hector was introduced to him as William Rolfe, "a friend of mine from Devonshire," said Picton. Sir Robert shook hands with him; it was easy to see he had no idea it was Hector Woodridge, and all breathed more freely. "So you imagine you've got the winner of the St. Leger at Haverton, eh, Pic?" he said as they sat smoking after dinner. "It's more than imagination. I think Tearaway is the best filly I ever saw; so does Blackett; he says she's as fast as the wind," said Picton. "Is she? The wind blows at a pretty pace over the wolds sometimes, sixty miles an hour or more; she's not quite up to that," said Sir Robert. "No, not quite," laughed Picton; "but she has a rare turn of speed, and can stay as long as she's wanted." "I haven't seen her for some time," he said. "She's improved a lot, a real beauty; I'm sure you will say so. You ought to back her to win a good stake." "I'm told Ripon will win. They fancy him a lot at Newmarket; they also think he had bad luck to lose the Derby." "Suppose Tearaway beats Tristram in the morning at seven pounds difference?" said Picton. "It will be the biggest certainty for the St. Leger ever known," said Sir Robert. Hector joined in the conversation. Sir Robert liked him, but no look or word reminded him of Hector Woodridge. "I'm safe," thought Hector. "Sir Robert ought to have been one of the first to recognize me." Next morning they were all on the moor early. Four horses were to take part in the trial: Tristram, Tearaway, Rodney and Admiral, and the filly was giving weight to all except Sir Robert's great horse. "By jove, she has grown into a beauty!" exclaimed the baronet when he saw the beautiful black filly with Fred Erickson, the popular Yorkshire jockey, in the saddle. Erickson lived at Haverton village, but was not often at home, as he had an enormous amount of riding, going to scale under eight stone easily. "Good morning, Fred," said Sir Robert. "You're on a nice filly." "She is, Sir Robert; one of the best." "Can she beat Tristram? You've ridden him." "I wouldn't go so far as that, but she'll give him a good race," said the jockey. Abel Dent came from Beaumont Hall to ride Tristram in the gallop. He was always on the horse's back in his work and knew him thoroughly. "You'll have to keep him going, Abe," said Sir Robert, smiling. "I'll keep 'em all going," was the confident reply. Rodney and Admiral were more than useful; the latter was to bring them along for the last mile, it was his favorite distance. Brant Blackett greeted them as he rode up on his cob. He was brimful of confidence as to the result of the spin. He set Tearaway to give Rodney and Admiral a stone each. "I'll send them down to the two-mile post," he said. "This is the best long gallop anywhere, I should say," said Sir Robert. "I often envy it you, Pic, my boy. Fancy four miles straight--it's wonderful."