The Magpie Jacket. A tale of the turf

Front matter

NAT GOULD'S SPORTING NOVELS In Crown Svo. Picture Boards. THE DOUBLE EVENT RUNNING IT OFF JOCKEY JACK HARRY DALE'S JOCKEY BANKER AND BROKER THROWN AAVAY STUCK UP ONLY A COMMONER THE MINERS' CUP THE DOCTOR'S DOUBLE THE MAGPIE JACKET Also, Uniform -with the above, ON AND OFF THE TURF IN AUSTRALIA A Tale of the Turf bv NAT GOULD ("Verax") Author of " The Double Event." LONDON GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS, Limited Broadway, Ludgate Hill Manchester and New York 1S96. LONDON : L UPCOTT GILL, LONDON AND COUNTY PRINTING WORKS, DRURY LANE, W.C. CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE I. — The Old Hall 7 II. — The Last Chance 17 III. — A Trusty Servant 27 IV.— Norton and Son 38 V. — A Promising Colt 49 VI. — The Meet at the Hall .... 58 VII. — Not so Bad after all 69 VIII. — Beechwood 80 IX. — The Squire's Opinion 92 X. — An Envelope 103 XI. — The Mantle of Snow 114 XII.— Hiram Jackson Missing .... 126 XIII. — An Old-Fashioned Christmas . . .138 XIV. — The Merry Month of June . . .150 XV. — An Arrangement 161 XVI.— At Sandown Park 172 XVII.— The Eclipse Stakes . .182 XVIII.— A Popular Win 192 XIX.— Among the Partridges . . . .205 XX.— The Eve of the St. Leger . . . .215 XXI.— Doncaster CONTENTS.

CHAPTER PAGE XXII.— The St. Leger 236 XXIII. — A Railway Adventure 248 XXIV. — A Friend in Need 260 XXV. — The Crash Averted 271 XXVI.— The Parson's Wooing 281 XXVII.— The Hunters' Plate 291 XXVIII.— Three Score Years and Ten . . .302 I Jacket A TALE OF THE TURF.

Chapter I. The Old Hall

Arden Hall was an old-fashioned place. Squire Arden, many people said, was as antiquated in his notions as the Hall that bore his name. He was opposed to many of the innovations in the cus toms of the people that had been made since the days when he was a boy. Squire Arden believed in the old maxim, "Speak the truth and shame the devil." He was an upright, honourable man, and hated hypocrisy and deceit. He was a thorough-going Tory of the old school, and was an uncompromising advocate of the rights of property. He did not march with the times — in fact, the times had made forced marches upon him, and left him considerably in the rear. Never a rich man, Squire Arden had been accustomed tp spend money somewhat recklessly. He was generous to a fault, and never refused assistance where he thought it was re quired.

He was an old bachelor, and remained true to his first and only love, who had been killed by a fall in the hunting-field. The death of the woman he loved was a sad blow to William Arden, and he never forgot it. His sister, Harriet Arden, remained with him at the Hall until she married and became Mrs. Richard Fairfield. Her husband, Richard Fairfield, was a lace manufacturer at Nottingham. Unfortunately he was a heavy speculator on the Stock Exchange. His heavy losses preyed upon his mind, and he gradually lost his health, and died ten years after he had married Harriet Arden. Mrs. Fairfield was left with an only son, Eric Arden Fairfield, and an income of three hundred a year saved from the wreck of a once fine business. Squire Arden had been opposed to his sister's marriage, but when Richard Fairfield died he insisted upon his widow bringing her boy to reside with him at the Hall.

Harriet Fairfield gladly availed herself of the Squire's offer. She thought it would be a fine chance for her boy, as her brother had no heir to inherit the Arden property. She did no): know that the Squire was at times hard pressed for money ; on the contrary, she imagined he had a substantial income, more than sufficient for all his wants. ■ So Harriet Fairfield brought Eric to the Hall when he was nearly ten years old, and had remained there ever since. Eric was a great favourite with the Squire. His boyish pranks and scrapes amused his uncle. "The Squire makes a regular fool of that lad. He spoils him," was the general verdict. As is usual in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, the general verdict was wrong. Squire Arden did his best to spoil the lad, but Eric was not made that way. The lad loved his uncle, more than he had ever loved his father, and next to his mother, the Squire held the warmest place in his heart.

Eric's first escapade when he was installed at the Hall, was to take the Squire's pet fox terriers out for a stroll, and accompanied by a well-known poacher, who possessed several well-trained ferrets, make a raid on a neighbour's rabbit warren. " You foind the dogs, Mr. Eric, oi'll foind th> ferrits. That's a fair bargain," said the poacher. Eric considered the offer, and said he thought it was fair, and the expedition was arranged accordingly. Naturally the Squire's neighbour objected to this raid on his rabbits, and it took William Arden a con siderable time to pacify him and obtain from him a promise to take no further steps in the matter. Eric was called before his uncle and severely reprimanded. His uncle knew the lad always told him the truth and loved him the more for it. "How dare you take my dogs out, sir?" com menced the Squire, " without my permission ?

And with that poaching rascal, Stubbins. You o^ught to be ashamed of yourself, sir, associating with the blackguard. Why did you do this ? " " For love of the sport," answered the lad. " Why, it was fun, uncle," said the boy, his face flushed with the thoughts of the excitement he had gone through. "Bob has lovely ferrits. The rabbits belted like winking. Taff (the squire's favourite terrier) caught them quick as lightning. He is a dog that, uncle, I never saw such a fellow. He beat Ruff badly. One rabbit got away, and Taff and Ruff were after it like a shot. Wasn't it fun ? Ruff gained at first, but Taff came with a rush and caught the rabbit as it doubled. Taff's a lot better dog than Ruff." "So he is, so he is," said the Squire, who had become quite enthusiastic over Taff's performance.

Then suddenly checking himself, he said, with an attempt to look stern : " But why did you go poaching on another man's property ? Were my rabbits not good enough for you ? " " Yes, uncle," said Eric ; but you see it was all Bob's fault." " What had Stubbins to do with it?" asked the Squire. "It was this way, uncle. I said it would be a jolly lark to catch some of your rabbits. Bob said, ' No it wouldn't. He had no objection to taking anyone else's rabbits ; in fact, he rather liked it.' What do you think Bob said, uncle?" "What did the rascal say?" asked the Squire. " Bob said " Eric hesitated. " Shall I tell, uncle?" "Yes, tell me. Go on." "Bob said 'he'd be d d if he'd ever poach on Squire Arden's land again after what he did for his wife' — he said .' missus ' — 'when he was djing three months hard for poaching.' " " Oh, he said that, did he," said the Squire, with a twinkle in his eye.

"Yes, and he said more, uncle," said Eric. " Bob said 'if there were more men like Squire Arden ther'd be less rogues.' " " He's a poaching rascal, for all that," said the Squire. " I know he's a poacher," said Eric. " That is why I asked him to go with me. He knows twice as much as your gamekeepers, uncle." Squire Arden laughed heartily as he said : "I'll be bound he does. I've a good mind to turn Bob Stubbins into a keeper." "That's capital, uncle. I'll go and tell him," said Eric. "What!" shouted the Squire. "Where is he?" " In the kitchen having some dinner, uncle," said Eric. "I told him to come and see how we'd get on." This was too much for the Squire. He laughed until the tears rolled down his cheeks. " Send him up here," he said to Eric. A shuffling sound in the corridor and a knock at the Squire's door.

" Come in," said the Squire. Eric entered leading a big burly man by the hand. " Oh, it's you, Stubbins," said the Squire. "Yes, sir," said the man. " How dare you take Master Eric out poaching," thundered the Squire. " That's not correct, uncle. I took him out poaching," said Eric. " Be quiet, sir," said the Squire. " You'll get six months for that bit of business," said the Squire to Stubbins. "Yes, sir," said the man. "You're a vagabond. You're a confirmed poaching scoundrel," said the Squire, wrathfully. "Yes, sir," said Stubbins." " Don't stand there saying ' yes, sir,' like an idiot," said the Squire. "No, sir," said Bob. "Should you like to be a gamekeeper, Bob?" said Eric. "Aye, Master Eric, I should that. But no one '11 give me a chance. I can't get no sort o' work," said Stubbins.

" You can go now, Stubbins," said the Squire. "Yes, sir," said Bob, and backed out of the room. " You've forgotten, uncle," said Eric. "Forgotten what, you young rascal?" said the Squire. "You haven't turned Bob into a gamekeeper," said Eric. This incident had taken place a dozen years ago, and Eric Fairfield was now two-and-twenty. For twelve years Bob Stubbins had served the Squire of Arden Hall faithfully, and he was now head gamekeeper. Squire Arden was rapidly getting on in years, and he placed great reliance upon Eric. Eric Fairfield had been well educated, and although he got into scrapes innumerable he was a great favourite during his stay at Eton. He had shown keener interest in sport than lessons, although he was an apt scholar when in the humour. Eric had figured in the eleven against Harrow, and had proved himself a good oarsman in many a stiff pull on the Thames.

He had held his own in the athletic world, and was a good runner and boxer. Few lads at Eton could swim better, and Eric Arden Fairfield's record as an all round athlete was remarkably good when he left Eton. A fine, manly-looking young fellow was Eric Fairfield at the age of two-and-twenty. A man after the Squire's own heart. "Just the sort of lad I'd have had of my own," said the Squire, with a sigh, as he thought of that fatal fall in the hunting field. " And he is your own, William," said his sister. " I feel Eric is quite as much yours as mine. He loves you as a father." " He's a good lad, Harriet," said the Squire. "You ought to be proud of him." " I am," said Harriet Fairfield, proudly, and there was no need for her to say more. Arden Hall was in the beautiful midland county of Nottinghamshire, about half-a-dozen miles from Newark-on-Trent.

In the midst of a great sporting country, it was small wonder that Eric Fairfield had grown up devoted to horses and dogs, and loved hunting, shooting, and racing ardently. Squire Arden, in days gone by, had kept racehorses, and even now he occasionally had one or two of his own breeding in training. The expenses of a heavy racing establishment, how ever, he could not afford. Arden Hall was a favourite place for a meet of the Rufford or South Notts hunt, and they were always sure of a find on the Squire's estate. It was a pretty sight the Meet on Arden lawn in front of the old fashioned Hall, that had been built by an Arden in centuries gone by. A hunting breakfast at Arden Hall was a repast to be remembered, and the Squire was never happier than when surrounded by the red coats, and with the music of the pack at hand.

Financially, however, matters had been going from bad to worse with the Squire. He had, on the advice of a very old friend, invested money in mining shares in the hope of making a rise. The West Australian speculations had not turned out well, and Squire Arden was saddled with a heavy loss, which it took him all his time to meet. In all matters affecting himself the Squire was a reserved man, and neither his sister nor her son had any idea of how matters stood. Squire Arden considered the situation carefully, and he came to the conclusion it was only right and just that he should place everything before his nephew in its proper light. " I have no right to lead him to expect a fortune at my death, which is probably what he is depending upon," said the Squire. " I'll not delay another day. Eric must know exactly how matters stand.

He's a good lad, and he will take it kindly." Squire Arden was sitting in his own room when he made up his mind to tell Eric all. As he leaned back in his o'd-fashioned arm-chair his eyes rested on the wall above the fireplace. Hanging on the wall was a racing jacket and cap in an oak frame and glass front. It was an old jacket, but clean and well preserved. The colours were black body, white sleeves, and black cap. As the Squire looked at the jacket his thoughts went back many years — back to the time when an unlucky chance had placed that jacket second in the Derby instead of first. Good judges said a mistake had been made, and that Squire Arden's colt had won the race. That head behind made a difference of many thousands to Willian Arden, that at the time were badly needed. "Who knows?" murmured the Squire, as he looked at the jacket.

"Fortune may favour me again some time. I've a couple of colts that are very promising, and " A knock at the door interrupted his medita^ tions. "Come in," said the Squire. "It's you, Eric, my boy. Glad to see you. Sit down, I want to have a chat with you." " Nothing pleases me better than to have a chat with you, uncle," said Eric. "You were studying the magpie jacket very attentively when I came in. The old colours have not been seen up for some years, uncle. You ought to chance your luck again with one of those colts, they are a pair of beauties." " You really think so, Eric/' asked the Squire. "1 do; I have seldom seen colts more promis ing," said Eric. "If I ever run one of them in a big race, Eric, the jockey shall wear that jacket and cap for luck," said the Squire, pointing to the magpie jacket hanging in its frame on the wall.

Chapter II. The Last Chance Squire

Arden looked at Eric in silence for some minutes. He hardly knew how to broach the subject he meant to enlighten him upon. He was not good at making financial statements, and he had received no hints in that direction from a perusal of the Budget, as he merely glanced at it to see if there was another penny on the income tax. Eric remained seated and looked at the magpie jacket hanging in its frame on the wall. " I suppose you think I am a rich man," said the Squire abruptly, and startling Eric from his reverie. "I have never thought anything about it uncle," replied Eric. " What made you ask such a question?" " Because I fancied you might be living in a fool's paradise, and counting your chickens before they were hatched," bluntly said Squire Arden. Eric flushed. It was not like his uncle to address him in this style.

"If you mean I have been speculating on what I might gain by your death you wrong me," he c said. " Such thoughts never trouble me. Rich or poor you will always be the same to me. I can never forget your kindness to my mother and myself." Squire Arden raised his hand deprecatingly. "That is nothing Eric. Your mother has done far more for me than I have for her. She has brought me you, something to love and cherish, something to spend the yearnings of my tough old bachelor heart on. You have been as a son to me, Eric, and a father should never deceive his son." "You spoke strangely," said Eric, "I could not understand you. I have always striven to behave as a son ought to his father." "I did speak abruptly," said the Squire. "I did not know how to begin. Eric, I am not a rich man, nay more, for a man in my position, I am a poor man.

Of course, there is no danger of utter ruin at present, although something must be done, my boy, to revive my fortune. It is about this I wished to consult you. You are a man now, Eric, and I want both your advice and assistance." " Surely your affairs are not very complicated," said Eric, as he looked round the comfortable room. "Arden Hall takes a lot of keeping up, my boy, and rents are not what they were," said the Squire. " I have never saved much money, and althouo-h the income decreased, I am afraid the expenditure did not follow in the same direction. I speculated in West Australian gold mines. Hang me if I would not have preferred to lose the money on the racecourse than to see it sunk in such an outlandish spot as Coolgardie." " The racing form of speculation would have been more to your taste I should say, uncle.

Cool gardie would be a bit too far off for my money — that is, if I had any," added Eric, with a laugh. "It is no laughing matter, Eric. We must economise," said the Squire. " The difficulty is where to commence." " Cut down expenses," said Eric. "Cannot be done," said the Squire. "There is not a hand too many on the Arden estate." Eric thought of the number of men employed in doing nothing, but he knew his uncle would prefer to deprive himself than allow a single hand to be discharged. "Sell some of the horses," said Eric. "How dare you, sir?" said the Squire, banging his fist on the table. " Sell the horses, indeed ! You'll want me to give up keeping half-a-dozen hunters next, I suppose?" "That is what I should advise," said Eric, highly amused at the old Squire's indignation. Squire Arden stared at him in amazement.

The bare idea of an Arden of Arden Hall being called upon to exist without his hunters had never entered his head. " Let me tell you, sir, I shall do no such thing," said the Squire. " Where will you get a mount next season I should like to know, if I sell my hunters?" " One horse will do for me, uncle," said Eric. c "But it won't do for me," said the Squire. "I have never had less than half-a-dozen hunters in my stables, and I never will have." " Then we must look elsewhere for a reduction in the expenditure," said Eric. "Raise the rents." " Never," said the- Squire. " I've promised a reduction of twenty per cent, next rent day." " That is the second time this year you have reduced your rents twenty per cent.," said Eric. "Bless me, so it is," said the Squire; "I reduced them last rent day."

" You have too many horses on the estate. Sell some of them," suggested Eric. " And probably part with a Derby or Leger winner," said the Squire. "No, that will not do, Eric." " Sell a portion of the estate," said Eric." "Another suggestion like that," said the Squire, savagely, "and I'll disown you. Sell the estate! You must be mad, boy." " Raise money on it," said Eric, who enjoyed teasing his uncle, and who did not suspect matters were as black as the Squire tried to paint them. "Mortgage Arden Hall?" roared the Squire, " I'm ashamed of you, Eric. You must be turning Radical." "Can you suggest anyway out of the difficulty ? " said Eric. "Yes, I can," said the Squire. "We'll train those colts and win a fortune with them." " And in the meantime? " asked Eric. " We will go on as we are doing," said the Squire.

Eric laughed heartily. "You are a clever hand at a scheme of retrench' ment and reform. " There's another Radical expression, sir. Re trenchment and reform. I never heard of such absurdities in my young days." It would probably have been better for him if he had, Eric thought, but he's a grand old fellow and I wish I could help him. "Are you very short of cash, uncle?" asked Eric. " Short is not the word, Eric. I am starved out in that direction." " Not even enough ready to go on with ? " said Eric, smiling. "A few thousands." said the squire. "We are not quite dead beat yet, Eric, but its coming, my boy." " Then we must stop it. In the meantime, uncle, don't worry yourself. I'm a great hand at financing, always had a liking for it at Eton." "Had you?" exclaimed Squire Arden. "That's the first I ever heard of it.

You generally were short of cash when I went Windsor way." " I financed you then, uncle, for my own pur poses," laughed Eric. " Now, I am going to finance you for your personal benefit." The idea of his nephew financing him tickled the Squire immensely. He regarded it as a huge joke. "And when do you commence running me as a limited liability company," asked the Squire. "At once," said Eric. "Will you give me per mission to sell some of the horses, uncle ? I will not touch the hunters or thoroughbreds." " On those conditions, yes," said Squire Arden. " I was not aware, however, we had too many on the estate." " We can do with ten less," said Eric, " and they go under the hammer." "Very well," said the Squire, "that settles it. You must tell me what you are going to do, Eric." "All in good time, uncle.

One thing I am going to do is to find out which of these colts is the better, and then I'm going to win you a big race or two with him." " It will cost a lot of money, Eric," said the Squire. "That is not a scheme of retrenchment." " But I am certain either of these colts is good enough for anything," said Eric. " You have entered them in the Two Thousand, the Derby, the St. Leger, the Eclipse Stakes, and a heap of other races. You have spent a small fortune in forfeits : I am going to get all that money back for you. Why, uncle, you have entered five or six young ones every year for goodness knows how many years in nearly all the big races, and have never even started a horse." " Custom, my boy, custom," said the Squire. "It's a way I got into, and I couldn't leave it off." "You must have paid thousands in forfeits.

All are paid up, of course," said Eric. "Yes," said the squire. "To tell you the truth, Eric, I have often thought what a confounded fool I was when I had to pay that list of forfeits. I entered horses that ought never to have been nominated, and when they were put up for sale no one would buy them with their liabilities attached." "I don't blame them," said Eric. "When I have sold the horses you gave me permission to dispose of, I mean to buy a good steady horse to lead the young ones in their work. They have not run yet, and will be all the better for keeping until next year. Then they will be fresh as three-year olds, instead of half ruined by being galloped off their legs as" two-year-olds." " A good idea, Eric," said the Squire. " Buy a reliable horse to school them with. But who is to train them?

" " Caunton and I will manage it between us," said Eric. Squire Arden smiled as he replied, " Do you think Ned Caunton is quite up to training in these days. He has trained many a good one in years gone by; but he is not very well acquainted with the modern systems." Ned Caunton had been with Squire Arden many years, and was a man well on in the sixties. When the magpie jacket was seen on the racecourse, Caunton generally trained the horses that carried it, and it had been his lasting regret that his master had almost forsaken the turf. Eric Fairfield stuck up manfully for Ned Caun ton in reply to the Squire's question. " I would back him against most of the new men," said Eric, "and give them all they know in." "Have your own way," said the Squire, "but remember the exchequer is low, Eric.

You have to replenish it, not dip into it, and my experience has been it is generally the latter in racing." Eric went off in high spirits. He did not really think there was much wrong with his uncle's finances, although he knew he must be temporarily short of ready cash. He walked rapidly in the direction of Ned Caunton's cottage, which was on the Arden Hall estate. Meanwhile Squire Arden walked on the terrace with three of his favourite terriers at his heels, and a huge St. Bernard at his side. He had one hand on the huge dog's head, and in the other he twirled a cigar between his fingers. He walked to the far end of the terrace, lighted his cigar, placed his elbows on the stone wall, and gazed thoughtfully at the landscape before him. Hundreds of times had Squire Arden let his eyes wander over this well-known scene.

It was a picture he was never tired of looking upon, and he had seen it in all kinds of weather. It was indeed a fair and charminoscene. Stretched out before him were meadows rich with juicy herbage, hedgerows blossoming with flowers, magnificent trees, centuries old many of them giant oaks, graceful beeches, waving ash, and huge outspreading chestnuts. The country was splendidly timbered, and on the Squire's estate it was seldom a tree was felled. The river Trent could be seen winding in and out, and shining and glistening in the sunlight. Many a struggle with a pike had the Squire had in the ponds near its banks, and the barbel had given him plenty of sport. The cows were quietly crunching the rich grass, and the sheep were wandering contented and at ease. It was a charming rural scene, such as fair Nottinghamshire can show in many places.

Squire Arden sighed as he looked at it all. "A glorious county," he said to himself. "No, I could never part with the land belonging to me. It would break my heart to leave dear o!d Arden. Eric little knows what a struggle I shall have to make both ends meet during the coming years remaining to me. Is it my fault, I wonder? To a certain extent it is, but I have lost money in attempting to make more for the lad. The boy, bless him, is full of confidence in his new scheme. He may succeed. Old Ned has not lost his cunning in training. He may see the magpie jacket first past the post again. It is the last chance, and I must trust it to be a good one." The old Squire never for one moment thought his heavy expenditure at Arden Hall and elsewhere had anything to do with his reduced fortune. He could no more have changed the life at Arden Hall than he could have changed himself. f AC NET.

His way of living had been born and bred in him. He had never been a very rich man, but he had given freely of his substance more generously than many men with ten times his income. He was too old to change now. Squire Arden was not the man to be long in a depressed mood. The fit of despondency soon left him. When he r_ turned into the house his troubles were well nigh forgotten. He met Eric in the hall. "Well, my boy, what does old Caunton say?" asked the Squire. "Ned says tell the Squire it is the best day's work he has done for years in giving you per mission to train and run those colts. Tell him the magpie will be in front next year, and that he has never owned a better horse than Cannon Ball," said Eric. " Good news, indeed, my boy," said Squire Arden, heartily. " I look upon it as my last chance, Eric. We must have a talk with Ned. Tell him to come round in the morning."

Chapter III

A TRUSTY SERVANT. NED CAUNTON resided in a comfortable, old fashioned cottage on the Arden estate. A modern trainer, with his splendid mansion and luxurious surroundings, would probably have treated with con tempt an offer to take up his residence at Ivy Lodge. Ned Caunton had been employed at Arden for over forty years, and he was looked upon by the men on the estate as " part of the property." Ned Caunton had married one of the servants at the Hall. No child was born unto them until ten years after the marriage, and then a baby girl appeared upon the scene. Caunton's wife died when the child was six years old, and since then the father had regarded Ruth as his sole object in life, the prop upon which he relied in his old age. Ruth Caunton was now in her twenty-first year, and was a bright, lady-like woman.