And the crowd was shouting "Shannon! Shannon!
Billabong!"--since all of these Cunjee folk loved Billabong and were
steadily jealous of Mulgoa. Jim and Wally were thumping Murty on the
back. Bob and Mr. Linton stood beaming at him. Below them Billy came
trotting back on his victorious steed, sitting with a grave face, as
expressionless as if he had not just accomplished his heart's desire.
But his dark, mysterious eyes scanned the crowd as he turned from
weighing in, and only grew satisfied when he saw the Billabong party
hurrying to greet him. They shook his hand, and smote him on the back,
Dave Boone and Mick Shanahan prancing with joy. And Shannon, his glossy
coat dark with sweat, nuzzled again at Norah's pocket for an apple--and
this time got it.
This glorious event over, interest became focused on a trotting race,
which brought out a queer assortment of competitors, ranging from
King Lightfoot, a horse well known in Melbourne, to Poddy, an animal
apparently more fitted to draw a hearse than to trot in a race--a lean,
raw-boned horse of a sad countenance and a long nose, with a shaggy
black coat which rather resembled that of a long-haired Irish goat.
There were other candidates, all fancied by their owners, but the public
support was only for King Lightfoot, who ran in elaborate leather and
rubber harness, and was clearly regarded by his rider as of infinite
condescension to be taking part in such a very mixed company.
Pages:
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272