You'll get a good price for the final, if you pop it down at
once. But don't go makin' a song of it, will you, now? I'm givin' you a
tip I wouldn't give anybody else."
"Thanks, very much; it's awfully good of you. I'll do what you advise. But
isn't there a dark horse anywhere else?"
"Not dark to me, my boy, not dark to me. I know every man runnin' like a
book. Old Taylor--him over at the Cop--he's got a very good lad at
eighteen yards, a very good lad indeed; and he's a tryer this time, I
know. But, bless you, my lad could give him ten, instead o' taking three,
and beat him then! When I'm runnin' a real tryer, I'm generally runnin'
something very near a winner, you bet; and this time, mind _this_ time,
I'm runnin' the certainest winner I _ever_ run--and I don't often make a
mistake. You back him."
"I shall, if you're as sure as that. But who is he?"
"Oh, Crockett's his name--Sammy Crockett. He's quite a new lad. I've got
young Steggles looking after him--sticks to him like wax. Takes his little
breathers in my bit o' ground at the back here. I've got a cinder-sprint
path there, over behind the trees.
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