"I'll leave all the good things they said until later on," went on Job. "I only arrived here late last night. I've got a new craft, a real tip top steamer. I've chucked over the old firm, they treated me badly. I'm skipper of the "Falcon," and a right down good steamer she is. I never expected to see you here. Knowing the Sydney Cup was run for to-day, I thought I'd come and see it. Lucky we arrived just in time. I don't know a blessed horse that is running in the race." These remarks brought Jack's thoughts back to the business in hand. They had been talking for some time, and Joel Kenley was hunting all over the paddock for Jack. At last he spotted him and went hurriedly across. Jack saw him coming and went to meet him. "I have been looking for you this half hour," said the trainer. "It is almost time for saddling up, will you come and see the horses put to rights?" Jack beckoned Captain Seagrave, and introduced him to the trainer, remarking that he was the brother of Caleb Kenley, of Lewes. "Proud to meet you," said Job, "I know your brother, saw him when I was in England last voyage." "We have no time to talk now," said Jack, smiling. "There is a lot to be done. Come and see the horses saddled, Captain." "Whose horses?" "Our's--mine and Barry's." "Is he here?" "No, worse luck." "What races are they in?" "The Sydney Cup," replied Jack. "Both of them?" "Yes." "Well, this is a go, and which of 'em is going to win? Do you ride?" Jack and the trainer laughed heartily, and the former explained the situation to Joel, who was thanking his lucky star that the "Falcon" had arrived in time for him to be present. Lucky Boy was saddled first, then Black Boy, and quite a crowd gathered round the pair, for Joel Kenley's horses always attracted attention, his stable was generally dangerous. Black Boy was quiet, but his stable mate was restless, and lashed out freely. "Which do you like best?" asked Jack. "I'm not much of a judge, but I prefer this one," replied the Captain, pointing to Jack's horse. "The other one is the better favourite, but I rather fancy mine will beat him." "What does the trainer think?" "He's in a bit of a fix. Lucky Boy won the trial, and yet we all seem to fancy the other one." "Then he carries my money," said Job. "What odds can I get?" "About twenty to one," replied Jack. "That beats Topsy Turvy," said Job. "I'll have a fiver on." Jack laughed, and advised him to do his speculating at once, and he would wait for him. The jockeys came up and mounted, and by this time the interest in the race had risen to fever heat. Mentone, a Melbourne trained horse, is favourite, and the opinion was that he had been leniently treated, in fact, was the pick of the handicap. A strong contingent of visitors from the Victorian capital had come over to back him, and were confident of success. Escort, Tramp, Hiram, and the Dancer, were all more or less fancied.