Then some one else drew Thunderer; and Peter Dillon got Conqueror, greatly to his joy, for he reckoned that his expenses from Castlebar would thus be mostly paid, even if he couldn't sell the long-legged colt. The Major drew Crom-a-boo, a Carrick horse, who had once been a decent hunter, and whose owner had entered it at the instigation of his fellow townsmen, and by the assurance that these sort of races were often won by your steady old horses; and Mr. Stark, the owner, since he had first made up his mind to pay the L5 stake, had gradually deceived himself into the idea that he should probably win; and having never before even owned a horse--for this was a late purchase, or rather the beast had been taken in lieu of a debt--had now, for the last three weeks, talked of nothing but sweats, gallops, physics, training, running, and leaping: and having secured the services of a groom for the day, who was capable of riding his horse, had entirely given himself up to the delights of horse-racing. Lucky was it for Mr. Stark that Crom-a-boo was sure to lose; for had he won, Stark would have been a ruined man; nothing would have kept him from the Curragh and a conviction that the turf was his proper vocation. The Major was delighted at his prize; he had not drawn a blank, and that was sufficient for him. Then, at last, Keegan got Pat Conner's mare from Strokestown. She was called Diana, and his was the last paper drawn. "Faith, Keegan, you're in luck," said McKeon, "for the mare can't but run well. Pat's been training her since May last. I was over there going to Castlereagh, and I saw Pat at her then." "'Deed, then, Mr. McKeon," said Conner, "maybe she'll beat your own mare, much as you think of her." "Oh! I'm sure she will; there's so much running about her. Was she at plough after last winter, Pat?" "She had other work to do, then, for she had to carry me twice a week through the season; and that she did--and that's not light work, I think." "Carry you, Pat!" said Gayner; "why, you don't mean to say you hunt that old garron you call Diana? Faith, man, you're too bold; your friends ought to look to you; what would the country do if you broke your neck?" "It's your own is in most danger, I'm thinking," replied Pat; "faith, I wouldn't take all the pick up to-morrow, to ride that devil you're to ride over the course." "And I'll take devilish good care you're not asked," said McKeon: "but now, boys, as I fear the Major's hardly up to it, I'll dispose of the prizes. Come, which shall I put up first? which was drawn first?" "Your own mare, Tony; Gayner got Playful at the first start."