Part 28 (2/2)
”If Barellan gets right I think he'll win.”
”And if not?”
”Roland.”
”The Caulfield Cup winner?”
”Yes. He's a good horse--better than folks imagine.”
”But his penalty?”
”He's a weight carrier. His trainer says he'd a stone in hand at Caulfield.”
”That settles it,” said Jerry.
CHAPTER XXII
SWEEP MONEY
After the Caulfield Cup, Hadwin took the horses to Flemington, where they were boxed at the top of the hill, at the Racecourse Hotel, where many good horses have had their quarters.
Thither Bellshaw went, when he had been to Scott's, and cleansed himself from the grime that acc.u.mulated coming from Albury to Melbourne. He was not popular at the hotel. His generosity was of the miserly kind, and everybody knew it. Still he was the owner of Barellan, the sensational horse of the hour, and people wondered if it would be a case of another a.s.sa.s.sin, who was reported lame, and won easily.
The head waiter said, ”It's just up to Bellshaw to plant a lame 'un on us, and then for the horse to come up smiling and win.”
When Bellshaw arrived at the Racecourse Hotel he at once saw Hadwin, and there was a stormy scene.
”I told you he'd break down if you gave him such strong work,” said Bellshaw.
”He hasn't broken down,” retorted the trainer.
”Gerard told me he's dead lame.”
”That's different to breaking down. He's not dead lame.”
”Then what's the matter with him?”
”Limped when he pulled up, that's all.”
”Isn't that enough the week before the race?” growled Bellshaw.
”It would be under certain circ.u.mstances, but it's not serious.”
”You think he'll be fit to run?”
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