it was a brilliant scene on the beautiful randwick course on cup day, and jack redland, as he looked round, thought it compared more than favourably with anything of the kind he had seen in the old country. he knew it was to be a day of excitement, and he heartily wished he had some friend to share it with him. sometimes our desires are gratified in a strangely sudden manner, and so it chanced to be with him.

as he looked at the moving mass of people in the ring at the rear of the stewards' stand, he saw a burly figure that seemed strangely familiar. at first he did not recognise it, but as the man moved nearer, he gave an exclamation of delighted surprise, for it was his old friend captain seagrave, who in some extraordinary way had turned up at this opportune moment.

jack darted down the steps of the stand and hustled his way through the crowd, not stopping to answer numerous heated inquiries as to where he was "pushing people."

he caught captain seagrave by the arm, and the astonished sailor gasped as he looked at him.

"of all the blessed experiences i ever had, this beats all," said job, as he gave his hand a hearty shake. "where on earth have you sprung from?"

"i ought to ask that question," replied jack, laughing. "what brings you here?"

"come under the trees and sit down, and i'll tell you."

they went towards a shady seat, and then job seagrave said—

"it does me good to see you. i've a heap of things to tell you. i saw sir lester and his daughter last trip and they have sent no end of messages, especially the young lady. lucky dog, that's what you are."

jack forgot all about the races for the time being, so absorbed was he in listening to the captain.

"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.

captain seagrave had no difficulty in obtaining a hundred to five about black boy, a wager he was more than satisfied with.

"if it pans out as well as that race you rode in at lewes it will be grand," he said. "i wish sam slack had come with me."

"is sam in the 'falcon' with you?" asked jack.

"yes, and so is mac and most of the other boys. they'll be glad to see you again."

the horses were now moving out on to the track, and job caught sight of the colours on black boy.

"he's running in sir lester's colours," said job, in some surprise.

"and it is the same jacket i wore when i won on topsy turvy," said jack. "sir lester gave it me."

"then i'm hanged if i don't have another bit on," said job, and this time he only secured a hundred to seven.

jack laughed at his enthusiasm, and said—

"you had better have a pound or two on lucky boy as a saver, they will both do their best to win."

"no more," said job, "i'll stand or fall by the old colours."

the stands were packed, and the people stood on the lawn, and leaned over the railings in dense masses.

mentone was cheered as he galloped to the starting post, and the horse looked a perfect picture. black boy moved sluggishly, but lucky boy went past at a great pace, pulling his jockey out of the saddle, eager for the race.

"too flash," said job; "give me the other fellow, he's steady and sure."

"i daresay you are right," replied jack.

there was no more time for conversation, as the horses were quickly despatched on their journey, and the bright green jacket of escort was easily distinguishable in front. the horse had a light weight, and a clever lad rode him. with a clean lead of several lengths, he brought the field along, his nearest attendants being hiram, tramp, and maximus. bunched together in the centre were the favourite, and kenley's pair with the remainder of the field, well up.

as they passed the stand, escort led at a great pace, almost overstriding himself, and his tiny jockey had no easy task to hold him.

there was some bumping as they swept round the bend and past oxenham's, but nothing was seriously interfered with.

along the track, escort still led, but the others were gradually drawing up, and it was easy to see that by the time the sheds were reached, he would be caught.

jack watched the black jacket and orange sleeves closely and also the cherry and white on lucky boy, who seemed to be going in splendid form, and fully bearing out his trial. so far barry's horse clearly outpaced black boy, and jack commenced to think he would win. he would have been almost as pleased to see barry's colours successful as his own.

job made no remark. he stood watching the race with a stolid face, and no one would have thought he was in a fever of excitement. a good race agitated him far more than a storm at sea.

they were nearing the turn for home, and mentone was rapidly working his way round on the outside. the favourite seemed to have no difficulty in passing the leaders, and as they entered the straight, he was close up to tramp, who held the lead.

lucky boy shot his bolt soon after they headed for home, and his collapse was a surprise to joel kenley, who fancied he would be sure to stay it out.

bricky smiles was watching the race from the trainer's stand, and when he saw lucky boy was beaten, he was glad his modest investment was on his favourite.

as they neared the first stand, mentone looked to have the race well in hand. he was going easily and his jockey had made no call upon him; he had no intention of doing so if it could be avoided, for the horse had a decided objection to being pressed. his instructions were to get to the front as soon as they entered the straight and make the best of his way home, no matter whether it was a long run in or otherwise.

"don't hit him if you can help it," said the trainer, "but, of course, if it comes to a pinch you must."

will sleath saw the favourite forging ahead, and also noticed lucky boy fall back.

"it all depends on me," he thought; "andy has no chance."

black boy was a horse that could gallop at a steady pace almost any distance, but he lacked that sharp burst of speed which comes in so handy at the finish. will sleath knew his mount well, and had no hesitation in making the most of him in any part of the race. the rider of mentone had been deceived as to the pace they were going, because black boy had been galloping alongside him, and he knew the horse was a "plodder." when he made his run round the home turn with mentone, it took a good deal out of the favourite, more than he knew of. sleath sent black boy along at his top, and together with hiram and the dancer, drew level with tramp, who was soon beaten.

mentone was sailing along comfortably in front, his backers being on excellent terms with themselves, and already the cheering which heralds the anticipated victory of a favourite were heard.

"it's all over," said jack. "we're beaten, job."

the captain made no remark, he was too intent upon watching the black and orange jacket as it came creeping along.

slowly but surely black boy made up his ground, and hiram stuck close to him, yet it seemed almost impossible they would get on terms with the leader.

will sleath looked ahead and saw the judge's box very near: if only black boy could put on a spurt he had no doubt what would be the result. this was unfortunately what black boy could not do, for he was already at his top, and his jockey did not ask him to go faster.

mentone was tiring, and his rider was aware of it, but he thought the commanding lead he held would carry him safely through.

it was a case of the favourite stopping and black boy plodding on. the exciting question was would mentone fall back sufficiently to allow of jack's horse getting up.

the crowd commenced to realise what was taking place, and there was a dead silence.

jack felt his pulses tingle, and his blood seemed on fire. being an accomplished rider, he knew exactly how matters stood, and he hoped almost against hope that black boy would just get up in time.

the black and orange was very near now, not more than a length away, and mentone's jockey realising the danger raised his whip. in response the horse made a feeble effort which was not sustained, and a terrific shout burst from the crowd as black boy got on level terms.

for a second the pair struggled together, then black boy outstayed the favourite, and the black and orange jacket of sir lester dyke was carried first past the post in a memorable sydney cup.

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