the trial had taken place, and lucky boy beat black boy and two others easily, much to the surprise of joel kenley, who could not understand it. on this form lucky boy's victory at rosehill could not have been such a fluke after all.

jack saw the trial and was puzzled. he had ridden both horses in their work and had a decided preference for black boy. on more than one occasion he had galloped with lucky boy and beaten him, and yet there was no mistaking the way in which barry's horse won the trial.

he thought the matter over and came to the conclusion that there must be some mistake, and hinted as much to joel, who laughed and said there could be no error, because both horses were ridden out, and they carried level weights.

"we ought to have another trial," said jack.

"i do not advise it. the cup race takes place next week and both horses are fit. if you take my advice you will back them both and the odds against black boy are very tempting. a hundred to three means a big win for a small outlay, and as you can also obtain a hundred to eight about lucky boy there is no cause to complain about the tightness of the market."

"they are liberal prices," said jack, "but not excessive on the form."

abe moss was determined to be on the right one of joel kenley's pair for the sydney cup, and as he knew exactly what black boy was capable of he thought after the trial that lucky boy held a splendid winning chance. abe, however, seldom gave anyone credit for acting straightforwardly, and when lucky boy won the trial he had doubts about the genuineness of the gallop.

one evening he met bricky smiles in adams' bar, in pitt street. bricky knew him, and saw no reason to avoid him. moss seized the opportunity and commenced operations by standing drinks. he knew bricky's failing, the old jockey took considerably more than was good for him at times, many people in more exalted positions do the same, but they hide it more effectually.

a couple of glasses of whisky and soda loosened bricky's tongue, and he talked volubly. gradually abe moss led him on to the subject he desired, but the moment he hinted at anything connected with kenley's stable bricky became reserved.

"he's not primed sufficiently," thought moss, and called for more liquor.

they sat down and moss said—

"if you'll do me a favour, bricky, i'll make it worth your while."

"depends upon what it is," he replied.

"there's no harm in it. i merely wish to know your opinion about a couple of horses."

"is that all?"

"yes."

"which horses?"

"lucky boy and black boy."

bricky laughed as he replied—

"i fancy you know as much as i do about them, perhaps more, especially about black boy."

"was that a straight go the other morning, when lucky boy won?" asked abe.

"you know joel kenley, and that ought to be sufficient. the trial was straight enough."

"then you think lucky boy is the better of the pair?"

"he must be on that form, and the market tells the same tale," replied bricky.

"i don't care a hang for the market, figures can be faked anyhow. you have not told me your opinion. come, i'll give you a couple of sovs. for it, that's a professional fee."

bricky thought there was no harm in expressing his private opinion, it would not be betraying any stable secrets, for it was well known that joel kenley preferred lucky boy. a couple of sovs. under such circumstances were not to be despised.

"i can only go by the trial," he said. "that is the safest guide, but if you want to know which of the pair is my favourite i may tell you it's black boy. don't run away with the idea that he'll beat the other fellow in the cup, although i would like to see him do it, joel knows more about it than i do."

"you have not told me much," said abe, "but here's a couple of sovs. you really prefer black boy to lucky boy?"

"as a horse, yes, but whether he will beat him in the sydney cup remains to be seen."

"which shall you back?"

"i have no money to back horses with," said bricky.

"you had plenty at one time."

"i had and did it on like a fool. i daresay you had some of it."

abe moss laughed, he thought this probable, as he had an interest in one or two books and had often played cards and billiards with bricky.

jack redland went into tattersalls' club frequently, and was very popular with the members. they recognised him as a good sportsman and readily acknowledged he was a cut above the general run of racing men. considerable interest was manifested as to which horse out of kenley's stable he would back, and when he accepted several big wagers about black boy at a thousand to thirty there was a disposition to follow his lead. as a natural consequence, lucky boy dropped in the quotations, but when jack snapped up a tempting offer at the extended odds he speedily recovered. there was nothing sensational about these transactions, and when one or two questions were asked he merely replied that he was backing lucky boy for barry tuxford, and black boy for himself.

"we may divide the spoil if either horse wins," he added, laughing.

this was feasible enough, the horses were in different ownerships, and would therefore run independently, but for all this there was an air of uncertainty about it.

if lucky boy was the better horse, why had barry tuxford cleared out instead of remaining to see his colours carried to victory. it must be very important business to take him away at such a time.

joel kenley secured two reliable middle-weights to ride the horses. andy wilson was to have the mount on lucky boy, will sleath was to ride jack's horse. there was not much to chose between the pair; if anything, wilson had a larger number of followers. they had ridden the horses at exercise and each jockey fancied his mount, so that a rivalry, quite friendly, existed between them, as to which would prove the better of the two in the cup.

they were talking it over the night before the race, and eventually decided to make a wager of five pounds aside, each jockey backing his own mount. they were not sanguine of success, as there were many good horses in the race, including three or four cracks from melbourne.

jack redland was exceedingly anxious. sleath was to wear sir lester's jacket, which he had brought out from home, and in which he had ridden topsy turvy to victory at lewes. he impressed upon the jockey that there was a halo of romance hanging about the jacket and that he must strain every nerve to win.

as he looked at the brilliant orange sleeves, and the dark body, he thought of the last time he had worn it and wondered how everything was going with winifred and sir lester. somehow he felt sanguine of victory, and if black boy won he determined to cable to sir lester, who would be delighted to receive the news. he wished barry tuxford could be present to see the race and judge for himself as to lucky boy's running if he was beaten. not that barry would doubt anyone, he was too honest for that, but jack felt it would be a disappointment to him if his horse lost.

it was also an anxious time for joel kenley, who had several horses running at the meeting. the trainer was still puzzled as to the merits of "the two boys", as he called the horses. common sense told him lucky boy ought to beat black boy, and yet he could not drive away the idea that jack's horse would beat him, if not actually win.

as he went round the boxes the night before the race, he found bricky looking earnestly at black boy.

"anything the matter?" asked joel.

"no, sir. he never was better. he's as hard as nails and fit to run any distance."

"you seemed a trifle anxious about something."

"i was wondering how much he'd win the cup by," said bricky, without a smile.

joel kenley laughed as he replied—

"then you are sure he will win, and it is only a question as to how far the others will be beaten. what makes you think he will beat lucky boy?"

"i don't know, a kind of presentiment, one of those things a fellow can't understand. i'm sure he is a better horse than the other fellow."

joel kenley seldom talked with his lads, but he knew bricky had a wide experience and had ridden and looked after all sorts of horses, so he spoke to him with more freedom than usual.

"what about the trial? lucky boy won that easily."

"that's true, too easily i thought, he'd never do it again. it reminded me of a trial i once rode for mr. mason, at eagle farm, brisbane."

"what was there curious about it?" asked joel.

"there were two horses in his stable, same as it is here, and one of them won a trial with any amount to spare. they backed him for a heap of money, put the other horse in to make the running, which he did, for he was never caught, and won the race almost as easily as his stable mate did the trial. i rode the favourite, and i also rode him in the trial. in the race he would not try a yard and there was a regular row about it. most people blamed me, but mr. mason stood by me and said he'd have another trial. we had, and dash me if my fellow didn't win again easily, and i rode him. well, about a month after we took him to gympie, backed him heavily, and he ran nearly last. the other horse, that he beat in the trial, we took to rockhampton, and beggar me if he didn't win easily, fairly smothering the gympie winner. what do you make of that?"

"one horse must have been a rogue in a race, but would do his best at home," said joel.

"quite so, and i have an idea that will be the case here."

"you may be right, but we have no occasion to think lucky boy lacks courage, he ran a good race at rosehill."

bricky shook his head and smiled as he said—

"i can't give any reasons, sir, but to-morrow my bit for the cup goes on this fellow."

"it will be a surprise for a lot of people if he wins."

"it's good for 'em to be surprised sometimes," said bricky.

jack redland called at the trainer's the same night, and joel told him what bricky had said.

"it's curious," said jack, "but i cannot get it out of my head about black boy, i feel sure he will run well and beat barry's horse."

"have you heard from mr. tuxford?" asked the trainer.

"no, he has hardly had time to write."

"he must be a long way from here?"

"he is," replied jack, smiling, and the trainer said—

"it is no use trying to trap you."

"not a bit," said jack.

"he has left everything in our hands," said the trainer, "but it would be far more satisfactory if he were here, or even if we could communicate with him."

"i am afraid that also is impossible. a telegram would not reach him, besides what is there to wire about?"

"nothing, when you come to think of it," answered joel.

"we must give orders for both horses to be ridden out, and then we shall discover which is really the better of the pair. i confess the solution of that question interests me as much as the result of the race itself."

"and so it does me, and i am not at all sure, mr. redland, that the second string will not win," replied the trainer.