Tomkins, who has scarcely slept a wink, has
decided on ordering the "dersie" to rig up a
nobby jacket and cap; and has ridden the
race in his mind's eye some fifty times during the
night. He has arrayed himself in a pair of thick
Melton cords and top-boots, which make him feel
uncomfortably hot; but that is immaterial, the
get-up being indispensable to getting the pace
out ot Budmash.He has discarded the hunting-crop,
and has substituted a sharp-cutting whalebone
racing-whip. On mounting, he tells the
"ghorawallah" to remain where he is, that
he will be back directly, and walks quietly
out of his compound in the direction of the
race-course. Budmash is by no means lively, and
responds with a grunt and a wheeze to his
master's spurs. He carries his ears in a flabby
manner, and stumbles over every little piece of
uneven ground he comes to. On arriving at the
race-course, Tomkins gathers up the reins in
both hands, and, sticking the spurs into Budmash,
strives to raise himself in the saddle,
orthodox jockey fashion; but Budmash does
not at once, as he ought, start into a swinging
gallop, but sets up a little wheeze-and-puff
canter, which causes poor Tomkins first to
sway on his neck and then sit down on the
saddle. In the attempt to regain the jockey
position, too much aid is derived from the
reins; whereupon Budmash thinks it a signal
to stop, and does so accordingly. The morning
is hot and close, the cords and boots are
uncomfortable, and by this time, Tomkins, being
out of temper, lets Budmash have the whip
pretty smartly, which so astonishes him that
he actually manages to get up a gallop, blowing
like a grampus all the time. The great
attention that he pays to his seat, and the uproar
that Budmash makes, to say nothing ot the
wish being "father to the thought," make Tomkins
believe that Budmash really has speed, and
he straightway determines to enter him for the
Galloway Plate. After about half a mile of
wheezing and puffing, Budmash is pulled up,
and his head turned towards home. His look is
dejected, his eyeballs are bloodshot, his flanks
heave painfully. But Tomkins is delighted; he
wipes his own brow, and pats Budmash's neck,
and thinks of the honours he is about to achieve.
After Tomkins has refreshed himself with a bath,
put on some rather lighter clothes, and is about
to sit down to a cup of coffee and a cheroot, his
horsekeeper makes his appearance in the verandah,
holding up the gram-bag, saying, "Kutch
bee ne kia, sahib." "Eh! what?" says Tomkins,
and calls the boy to ask the reason why.
The boy and the horsekeeper converse rapidly
in Tamil, the latter holding up the three first
fingers, with the thumb of the right hand
closed, indicating the very small quantity
Budmash has consumed. The horsekeeper has
a broad grin on his face as he tells the boy
the pace was " Rumbo quick." "Well," says
Tomkins, "what is it?" "Paupiah tell our
horse can't eat gram. Master too much galloping,"
replies the boy. "Pooh! what nonsense!"
says Tomkins. "I expect the gram's sour."
But the gram, on inspection, is found to be
quite fresh and warm, having only just been
boiled; so Tomkins, not knowing what, to do,
says, "Never mind; give it him at tiffin-time,"
and returns to his coffee and cheroot, and
thinks on the cares of an owner of race-horses.
Budmash consumes a small portion of the gram
at tiffin-time, and Tomkins's spirits begin to rise
again. About eleven A.M. the boy may be seen
holding an amicable conversation with the
horsekeeper. During the time that Tomkins has gone
to a court-martial, both are squatted, cross-legged,
on the ground under the pandal in front
of the stable, and are enjoying intensely two of
their master's Trichinopoly cheroots.

The horsekeeper has seen better days; that
is, he was formerly in a richer man's service, a
man who kept a good many horses, and
delighted in racing.  He knows a thing or two,
and determines to profit by his knowledge; not
that he intends to help his master to obtain real
condition—that would involve a deal of extra
trouble to himself—but he intends to suggest
the purchase of sundry articles useful in
training, and out of which he and the boy
may make their profit. The boy opens the
ball in the evening, whilst he is assisting
Tomkins to dress for dinner. He commences
by saying, "I think master going to make race."
"Eh," says Tomkins, "who told you I was?"
blushing at the thought that somebody might
have been watching him in the morning. " Master
tell Dusie, morning-time, to make one
racing-jacket." "Oh, ah!" says Tomkins, relieved;
"yes, I shall run Budmash." "That Paupiah
very good man," says the boy. "He live long
time with Judge Dowdswell, sahib; he understand
that business." Tomkins is glad of this,
and asks the boy whether the horsekeeper
knows the reason why Budmash refused his
food in the morning? The boy tells him that
the horsekeeper recommends that a boiled
sheep's head should be given with the gram
night and morning. Tomkins has heard that
this is a native remedy for fattening horses, so
orders the sheep's head to be regularly provided.
The boy takes care that this order is attended
to, and he and the horsekeeper enjoy a banquet
of three-quarters of each sheep's head daily:
—Budmash (perhaps) getting the remainder.

It is not to be supposed that all who intend
entering for the races pursue the course above
described. There are three or four men in or
near the station who will bring (what is
considered up country) first-class animals in
first-class order to the post. The collector is a
thorough sportsman, and keeps several horses
for racing, besides greyhounds for fox and
jackal hunting. The judge has a couple of
good horses that he intends trying his luck
with; and the rajah, who has subscribed
liberally, and given a cup, has some that will
require a great deal of beating. Besides these,
there are two or three of the officers of the
Queen's regiment, a sporting captain or two of
the native; cavalry and infantry, then quartered
at the station, who have some good horses among