They were speeding along in the train to the Dispersal Area, and, having
moved heaven and earth to achieve demobilisation, were now absolutely
miserable on nearing their goal.
"Like to pick your fancy for the Derby, Docker?" asked Jimmy Ferguson,
proffering his daily paper with an air of acute cheerfulness.
"Not fer me," said Docker Morgan dismally; "I sworn off after the Balaam
Stakes."
"I never 'eard tell of that race," said Jimmy.
"Well, it ain't one of the classic events. It were run over there."
Docker jerked a thumb vaguely in the direction of France. "At a
'Concours Hippique,' which is posh fer 'Race Meeting.' Our orficers
arranged it just afore our troops left the area, and nacherally fixed
it fer the most awkward time fer me an' Nigger Rolf, being just between
paydays. After payin' to go on the course we'd only got five francs
left fer investment purposes. Nigger wanted to plunge right away, but I
stopped 'im.
"'No,' says I; 'we don't know 'orses, but we does know mules, leastways
as much as anyone does know mules. Let's scoop on this.'
"'An' I showed 'im the programme, which said:--
"'5.30.--THE BALAAM STAKES. For Government Mules ridden or driven by
British N.C.O.'s and men during the War.'
"We walked round the course an' tumbled acrost Ping Brown, got up _ong
chevalier_.
"'Aw-aw, Donoghue' says I, 'is it worth while backing you for a cool
thou for the Balaam?'
"'Well,' says he, 'I'm riding Perishing Percy. If it wus a clog-dancing
competition it 'ud be easy money, but bein' a race, back any one, even
the starter, sooner than me.'
"Then I met Spruggy Boyce, who useter drive with me in the Umpteenth
Field Ambulance.
"'Glory, Docker,' says he, falling on my neck, his top-boots being a bit
loose, 'I was looking for you.'
"'I ain't got no money,' says I.
"'But you _can_ 'ave,' he whispers confidential, like they do in the
pictures. 'I'm riding Red Liz in the Balaam.'
"'Well,' I replies, 'I'm not denying that Red Liz is a perfect lady; but
that's 'er trouble--she's too ladylike to pass anyone.'
"'Docker,' he hisses, 'do you remember driving 'er one day down the
Menin Road when Fritz started shelling?'
"'Don't I just! Why, she didn't fetch up till nearly at St. Omer, and
the shells lost heart becos they couldn't catch 'er. But,' I says
regretfully, it takes shells to start Red Liz, an' we ain't got none.'
"'No, we 'aven't got shells,' whispers Spruggy, 'but I 've got some
crackers; an' if you sprinkle some on the course, it's a cert.'
"'Right-o!' says I. 'Me an' Nigger will see it through, if you'll lend
us another five francs to invest.'
"Then I went to _cherchay_ a bookie, but I couldn't find one anywheres.
"'They don't 'ave 'em 'ere,' says Nigger. 'You invests at the sheds over
there--the _Paree Mutual_.'
"'That's an insurance company,' answers I. 'I want to put a bit on, not
take out a life policy.'
"'That's the place, I tells you,' says Nigger; 'the _Paree Mutual_ or
the _Total Liza_. If you don't 'urry you won't get it on before the race
starts.'
"So I fights my way through the surging mob to the counter.
"'What odds for Red Liz in the five-thirty?' says I.
"'_Je ne comprong pas_,' says the bet merchant, and before I could say
another word the crowd swept me away. I went back to Nigger.
"'Look 'ere, Nigger,' says I indignantly, 'I don't like this way. I
likes to speckerlate with a bookie--one with a wooden leg as can't run
for preference--who tells you what odds 'e's going to give an' doesn't
'ave to work it out in vulgar fractions afterwards.'
"'You 'eart-breaking turnip!' says Nigger; 'give me the money.'
"'E came back in a few minutes with a bit o' card that looked like a
pawn-ticket.
"'That's done,' he says. 'If it wins we just takes this ticket an' 'e
pays out on it. An' now let's go an' see 'em come out.'
"There wus ten starters, and four changed their minds at the post.
Perishing Percy did some neat an' effective steps that would 'ave gone
better with music, an' then stopped dead to listen for the applause.
Whips nor spurs weren't allowed in the race, an' peaceful persuasion
don't go far with a mule; but about five of 'em pursued the narrow and
straight path that leads to the winning-post. A big, raw-boned animal,
named Gentle Maggot, floundering along with one foot in the franc side
an' tother in the enclosure, with two other feet that couldn't be
simultaneously located, was leading, an' a chestnut named Coughdrop was
a good second. Red Liz was flapping her long ears an' coming along very
genteelly in the rear. When they wus nearly level to us, Nigger whispers
to me to get the cracker ready; but me hands were trembling so with
excitement that I couldn't light it.
"'Give 'em to me, you idjut!' says Nigger, and he plunked one neatly by
Red Liz's ribs. She started, and Nigger plants another one behind 'er.
Then she put 'er 'ead down and tore along like mad. She passed three,
got level with Coughdrop, passed 'er, an' thirty yards from home was
neck with Gentle Maggot. Both Jocks were whooping like mad, but just as
everyone was swearing it was going to be a dead-heat, I thumped Nigger
hard on the back an' yelled out, 'We've won!'
"Spruggy 'ad jerked Red Liz's head down just at the post, an' she 'ad
won by an ear!"
"Well, that was good enough, wasn't it?" said Jimmy, as Docker finished
his narrative with a mournful downward inflexion of voice.
"It would 'ave been," replied Docker; "only Nigger 'ad put the ticket in
'is mouth while 'e lighted the cracker, an' when I thumped 'im on the
back it startled 'im, an'--'_e swallered it_."
* * * * *