“I?” echoed Sir Reginald. “How? What do you mean? I haven’t the faintest glimmering idea of what you are driving at.” “You know I have a horse in for the Sundown Races?” A nod was his reply. “At the last moment--the eleventh hour--my jockey has thrown me over--last night actually--and the race comes off to-morrow. Where am I to get another unless you’ll ride for me?”--imploringly. “If you don’t,” he resumed, “I shall be smashed--horse, foot, and dragoons. Already the horse has fallen tremendously in the betting; but I won’t hedge a farthing,” with a resolute thump of his fist; “I mean to be a man or a mouse.” “But why pitch on Fairfax like this?” said Captain Vaughan irritably. “I told you, when you were sending the telegram, how uncommonly cool I thought you. One would think he was gentleman-rider to the regiment. How you have the cheek to ask him to ride such a brute, considering his broken arm and his only just coming off the sick-list, is more than I can understand,” puffing resentfully at his cigar. “Oh, Fairfax can manage anything. Tornado is not half as bad as that devil of Wyndham’s he rode at Poonah. Riding is child’s play to him.” Turning to Sir Reginald: “You will ride for me, won’t you?” he asked confidently. “If I don’t win this race it will be all U P. I shall have to send in my papers and volunteer as a trooper in one of those Cape regiments.” “Come, I hope you are not so bad as all that. I must see what I can do; but I’m not by any means the wonderful jockey you imagine.” “You will ride him, you will! I knew it. You were always a brick!” cried Captain Campell ecstatically, jumping up with such energy as to overset his chair with a loud crash. “For Heaven’s sake, sit down and compose yourself,” exclaimed Captain Vaughan angrily, “unless you want the people to think you are a subject for personal restraint. Fairfax,” turning to his brother-officer with solemnity, “does your wife allow you to ride races?” “My wife”--reddening--“allows me to do whatever I please.” “What a matrimonial rara avis!” muttered Captain Vaughan under his breath. “You will ride for me, Fairfax; I depend on you,” said Captain Campell. “Yes, I’ll ride for you, though you have given me awfully short notice; but, remember, I don’t guarantee that I’ll win.” “Oh, no fear of that if you can only hold him,” frankly returned his brother-officer, leaning across the table and volubly expatiating on the horse’s merits--age, pedigree, and performances--and giving a long and confidential _résumé_ of his temper and traits. “His groom, who knows him well, will give you a wrinkle or two before the race comes off to-morrow. He and the horse started yesterday, and we,” indicating Captain Vaughan and himself, “run down to-night. You can’t think what a load you have taken off my mind,” he added, heaving a deep sigh. “Have you telegraphed for rooms at the hotel?” inquired Captain Vaughan, always practical. “No, by Jove!--I never thought about it.”