EVERY peculiarity of a course is worth remembering in a country where
rats play the mischief with the elephant-litter, and Stewards build jumps to
suit their own stables.
This man ran a very fairish country-bred, a long, racking high mare with the
temper of a fiend, and the paces of an airy wandering seraph--a drifty, glidy
stretch. The mare was, as a delicate tribute to Mrs. Reiver, called "The Lady
Regula Baddun"--or for short, Regula Baddun.
Shackles' jockey, Brunt, was a quiet, well-behaved boy, but his nerves had
been shaken. He began his career by riding jump-races in Melbourne, where a
few Stewards want lynching, and was one of the jockeys who came through the
awful butchery--perhaps you will recollect it--of the Maribyrnong Plate. The
walls were colonial ramparts--logs of jarrak spiked into masonry--with wings
as strong as Church buttresses. Once in his stride, a horse had to jump or
fall. He couldn't run out. In the Maribyrnong Plate, twelve horses were jammed
at the second wall. Red Hat, leading, fell this side, and threw out The Glen,
and the ruck came up behind and the space between wing and wing was one
struggling, screaming, kicking shambles. Four jockeys were taken out dead;
three were very badly hurt, and Brunt was among the three.
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