If I was the Gaffer I
think I'd put up a bigger boy. He'll 'ave to carry a seven-pound penalty,
and Johnnie Scott could ride that weight."
The likelihood that a horse will bolt with one jockey and run straight
with another was argued passionately, and illustrated with interesting
reminiscences drawn from that remote past when Mr. Leopold was the
Gaffer's private servant--before either of them had married--when life was
composed entirely of horse-racing and prize-fighting. But cutting short
his tale of how he had met one day the Birmingham Chicken in a booth, and,
not knowing who he was, had offered to fight him, Mr. Leopold confessed he
did not know how to act--he had a bet of fifty pounds to ten shillings for
the double event; should he stand it out or lay some of it off? William
thrilled with admiration. What a 'ead, and who'd think it? that little
'ead, hardly bigger than a cocoanut! What a brain there was inside! Fifty
pounds to ten shillings; should he stand it out or hedge some of it? Who
could tell better than Mr. Leopold? It would, of course, be a pity to
break into the fifty. What did ten shillings matter? Mr. Leopold was a big
enough man to stand the racket of it even if it didn't come back. William
felt very proud of being consulted, for Mr. Leopold had never before been
known to let anyone know what he had on a race.
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