Rolf Boldrewood

“ It's Bronzewing's race. Turon for ever!' the crowd kept yelling.
`Oh! look at Rainbow!' says Aileen. And just then, at the turn, old Jacob sat down on him. The old horse challenged Bronzewing, passed him, and collared Hotspur. `Darkie! Darkie!' shouts everybody. `No! Hotspur—Darkie's coming—Darkie—Darkie! I tell yer Darkie.' And as old Jacob made one last effort, and landed him a winner by a clear head, there was a roar went up from the whole crowd that might have been heard at Nulla Mountain.
Starlight jumps off the drag and leads the old horse into the weighing yard. ”

“ Well done, the Turon Star!' says Starlight, after he read it all out. `I call that very fair. There's a flavour of good feeling underneath much of that nonsense, as well as of porter and oysters. It does a fellow a deal more good than slanging him to believe that he's human after all, and that men think so.'
`Do you reckon that chap was sober when he wrote that?' says father. `Blest if I can make head or tail of it. Half what them fellows puts down is regular rot. ”

“ Yes, and will to the world's end. `O you darling Rainbow!' I heard Aileen say. `Are you going to win this race and triumph over all these grand horses? What a sight it will be! I didn't think I could have cared for a race so much.'
It didn't seem hardly any time before they were half-way round again, and the struggle was on, in good downright earnest. One of the Sydney horses began to shake his tail. The other still kept the lead. Then the Turon favourite—a real game pebble of a little horse—began to show up. ”

“ I must find out more about him and buy him if I can.'
`I'll go you halves if you like,' says Starlight. `I weally believe him to be a good animal.'
Just then up rides Warrigal. He looks at the old horse as if he had never seen him before, nor us neither. He rides close by the heads of Mr. Dawson's team, and as he does so his hat falls off, by mistake, of course. He jumps off and picks it up, and rides slowly down towards the tent. ”

“ Hautley, the police magistrate's wife, and some other ladies wanted to see the horse that had won the race. So he was taken over there and admired and stroked till old Jacob got quite crusty.
`It's an odd thing, Dawson,' says the Commissioner, `nobody here knows this horse, where he was bred, or anything about him. Such a grand animal as he is, too! I wish Morringer could have seen him; he's always raving about horses. How savage he'll be to have missed all the fun!'
`He's a horse you don't see every day,' says Bill Dawson. ”

“ Was the moral sentiment of the country population so perverted, so obliterated, that robbers and murderers could find safe harbourage, trustworthy friends, and secret intelligence? Could they openly show themselves in places of public resort, mingle in amusements, and frequent the company of unblemished and distinguished citizens ”

“ I believe some of the brutes have been here all the time.'
`That's impossible,' says the Commissioner. `There's been no one here that the police are acquainted with; not that I suppose Jackson and Murphy know many of the cross boys.'
`No strange men nor horses, no disguises?' says Sir Ferdinand. Here he brings out a crumpled bit of paper, written on—
If sur firdnand makes haist back heel be in time to see Starlite's Raneboe win the handy capp. ”