The Second String by Nat Gould (moboreader txt) 📕

He returned to Barry Tuxford and Harry with a face beaming with satisfaction.

"You have had good news," said Barry, "anyone can see that. I congratulate you. I expect your letter is from the fortunate young lady who is to receive the black pearl—when you recover it."

"That is so," replied Jack, laughing. "As you remark, if we get it."

"I am commencing to think you are a bit of a mascot," said Barry laughing. "Everything you touch turns out well. I have some real good news for you."

"Indeed," said Jack, "what is it?"

"The Great Tom mine has panned out all right."

"That's splendid," replied Jack. "I had forgotten all about it for the moment."

"The pound shares are up to six pounds," said Barry.

"It sounds too good to be true," said Jack, excitedly. "That means three thousand for my five hundred."

"That's it, if you sell out."

"What do you advise me to do?"

"Sell half your shares; leave the other half in. It is a dividend paying mine, and I think they will go up to ten pounds, perhaps more, in another year."

"That will give me fifteen hundred to play with, and the profit on the trip as well. Harry, you must stand in; we agreed to go halves."

"Don't be ridiculous," replied Harry. "We agreed to go halves, certainly, but that was only for the voyage. I shall not take a penny of your profits. I have my share out of the pearls, and am quite satisfied."

"That is not fair," said Jack. "Because I happen to have had a stroke of luck it is no reason why you should cry off our arrangement."

"I think Mr. Marton is quite right," said Barry. "You cannot go on sharing all through your lives; it is absurd."

"If I make a pile, Harry, you must agree to accept something from me," said Jack.

"If my luck is out I will; but if I make sufficient for my wants, no," replied Harry.

In the course of the week Barry Tuxford took Jack out to the stables, where his horses were kept, and he had a spin on Lucky Boy, a four-year-old bay, a great favourite of Barry's.

Jack was delighted to be on the back of a thoroughbred again; it was far more to his taste than tossing about on a schooner, although he had enjoyed that for a time. He had, however, no desire to make another voyage at present. Lucky Boy was accompanied by Wanneroo, a bay, three years old, ridden by a black boy called Willie, who was clever at his work. The pair were attended by Onslow and Esperance.

Joe Kirby, who trained for Barry Tuxford, watched Jack critically. He had not much faith in amateur riders, especially new chums, but he soon saw Jack Redland was a good way beyond the average. Lucky Boy, he thought, had never gone so well before, and this was the opinion of Willie, when he dismounted, and the black boy looked at Jack admiringly.

Barry Tuxford was immensely pleased. He had no idea Jack could ride so well, and he thought Captain Seagrave was right when he said he was too good for pearl fishing.

"It does a fellow good to get on the back of a decent horse again," said Jack, as he patted Lucky Boy's neck.

"What do you think of him?" asked Barry.

"A very good mover, not particularly fast, but I should think he was a good stayer."

"He is, Mr. Redland," said Joe Kirby. "He can stay any distance, and over a couple of miles he would wear a faster horse than himself down."

"I daresay you are right," replied Jack. "Has he won any races?"

"A couple of minor handicaps at the Turf Club meeting, but no race of any value. He is generally in at a nice weight," said Barry.

"He won a Welter, too," said Joe.

"So he did, I forgot that. Carried ten seven, I think," said Barry.

"I don't know what I weigh now," said Jack, "but I could easily go to scale at ten stone at home, and less if required."

"Then you have ridden in England?" said the trainer, somewhat surprised.

"Oh, yes, scores of times. I was almost at the top of the tree one year. I won a race at Lewes a few days before I sailed for Fremantle."

"I thought you knew how to handle a horse when you threw your legs across Lucky Boy," replied Joe.

"That's Dongara," said Barry, as a grey came along alone. "He's got a bit of a temper. Gives Joe a lot of trouble, I'm afraid; but we keep pegging away at him because we think there's something in him, and a clever man chose him for me in Sydney. He cost more than he's worth, I fancy, and he's had adventures; the beggar was ship-wrecked, and had to swim ashore."

Jack glanced at the grey, and liked his appearance.

"May I ride him?" he asked.

Barry looked at the trainer, who smiled as he replied—

"If Mr. Redland will risk being thrown off there can be no objection; but it is only fair he should be warned what sort of a horse he is."

"As bad as that, is it?" laughed Jack. "Let me try my hand. I have ridden some nasty horses in my time; if he throws me he's welcome to any satisfaction he may get out of it."

Dongara was brought up, and when the lads saw the new chum was going to ride him they grinned at his expense in anticipation of some exciting fun.

It was exciting enough while it lasted, but could hardly be called fun; it was a battle in grim earnest, and the youngsters looked on in amazement.

Dongara first tried to bolt, and Jack let him have his head for a couple of miles, but did not allow him to forget who was master. This did not exactly suit the horse, who generally had his own way with the lads.

"He's holding him," said Joe. "That's more than I expected he would do."

At the end of a stiff gallop Dongara gave in, but he was not at the end of his experiment. He lashed out suddenly, then stood up and pawed the air; but a blow between the ears brought him down to a less exalted attitude. Then he tried to savage his rider, and got his nose kicked for his trouble.

At the end of half-an-hour Dongara consented to gallop like a well mannered thoroughbred, and it was evident Jack had him under control.

"You handled him splendidly," said Barry approvingly.

"He's a good horse," said Jack, "but, as you say, he has a very bad temper. It will take more than I have given him to cure him; but I could tame him in time. Where did you say he came from?"

"Sydney. Joel Kenley bought him for me."

"Joel Kenley!" exclaimed Jack. "That's very strange; his brother trained Topsy Turvy, the last horse I rode before I left England. I am going to look him up if ever I get as far as Sydney."

"You'll find Joel a decent sort, and well up in his business," said Barry.

Jack enjoyed the change thoroughly, and went back with Barry, eager to hear what he had to propose about racing.

Barry Tuxford was not long in coming to the point.

"There is not much to be won here," he said, "and after our meeting next month I thought of taking a trip to Sydney. Will you go with me?"

"With pleasure," replied Jack. "It is just what I should like."

"Harry Marton can go back with the pearling fleet, and you can have a share of the plunder. By the time we have finished our jaunt, Silas may have captured the black pearl for you."

"I hope so," said Jack. "I have set my heart on getting it."

"It's not much use taking any horses, they are too good for us there, although I should like to take them down on their own ground with a nag from West Australia."

"Why not take Lucky Boy? He ought to be good enough to win a long distance race, and he would get a light weight."

"We might do that, but I am afraid he would not pay his expenses. He'd come in all right as a second string if I bought something good; do to bring 'em along, and make the pace sound for the other fellow."

"I should say you would have some difficulty in finding a better horse to lead another at exercise, or as you suggest, to ensure a good pace throughout a long race. I have often seen the second string beat the first when he has been run merely as an assistant," said Jack.

"Will you sell half your shares in the Great Tom mine?" asked Barry.

"Yes, if you advise me to do so, and the money will come in handy for racing."

"If you are going to bet with it, keep it locked up where it is, it will be safer there."

"Then you are no believer in backing horses?"

"Not to win much money. Of course, I like to have a flutter for the fun of the thing, most sportsmen do," said Barry.

"When do you intend leaving here?"

"As soon as we have got the fleet away again. I must see Rank, and the two skippers, and come to terms with them."

When Barry went to Fremantle, to arrange for the return of the schooners to the bay, Jack wrote a reply to Winifred's letter. It was a long epistle, and in it he gave her an account of his adventures with the pearling schooners.

"It was a rough life, but I did not dislike it, and the finding of pearls is very exciting. I did not intend to tell you of this incident, but I cannot keep it to myself, and I know you have too much good sense to be disappointed if it does not turn out as I wish. One day I found a beautiful black egg shaped pearl in a large shell. It was perfect—not a flaw in it, and I was bewildered at its beauty, for they are very rare. I thought how nice it would be to send it to you as a token you were not forgotten. Forgotten! Why Winnie, I am always thinking of you and of the last time I saw you on the terrace, with your arms outstretched, pleading to me to come back, or I fancied so. 'Like his conceit,' I hear you say.

"There is an old pearl dealer here; a regular character, looks like a cross between a Jew pawn-broker and a Christian cabdriver. He's very rich, so my friend, Barry Tuxford, says. (Barry's a splendid fellow—a regular colonial. I am sure you would like him.) His name is Silas Filey—how do you fancy it—and he bought up all our pearls before he left the schooner. He says he'll try and get the black pearl back, because he knows the man we think persuaded the black fellow to steal it. If it is recovered Barry has promised I shall have it at a fair price, and I mean to send it you. Its story and adventures will interest you, and when you look at it, if ever you have the luck, it will remind you of 'the failure' far away in Australia.

"I am commencing to think, Win, that I am not such a dire failure after all, for I have just made a big haul by an investment in the Great Tom mine, again thanks to Barry, and my share of the pearls and shell will be considerable. Tell Sir Lester, Barry and myself are off to Sydney on a racing expedition, taking a horse called Lucky Boy with us, and that I shall also take the black jacket with orange sleeves I rode Topsy Turvy in with me, and if I get a chance either wear them myself, or put them up on a good one.