“To hot for her, Sarah,” David Linton said kindly.
“That's right, sir--it's too hot for anyone, let alone a little tiny kid,” Sarah said wearily. “I'd get Bill to go home if I could, but I can't get on his tracks--and it's too hot to take baby out in the sun looking for him. If you come across him, sir, you might tell him I want him.”
“All right,” said the squatter. “But you wouldn't take that long drive home yet, Sarah--better wait until the sun goes down.”
“Well, I'd go into Cunjee, to me sister-in-law's,” said Sarah. “She'd let me take baby's things off an' sponge her--an' I'd give a dollar to do it. No more races with kids for me in weather like this!” She crooned to the fretting baby as Mr. Linton went off.
He found Tommy and Norah together under a tree near the track--hot, but interested.
“They're all holding ponies,” Norah said. “I don't quite know why, but a very hot and worried man collected them to help start the race. What is it for, Dad, do you know?”
“Oh, I see!” David Linton laughed. “It's--a distance handicap--the ponies all start at the same moment, but from different points along the track.”
“Yes, that must be it,” Norah said. “Jim's away over near the timber with a little rat of a pony, and Bob is shepherding another fifty yards behind him, while Wally is quite near here with that big pony of the blacksmith's that has won ever so many races. She'll have a lot of ground to make up. But why must each one be shepherded, Dad?”
“Human nature,” said David Linton, smiling. “These youngsters who are riding would sneak a yard or two if they weren't closely watched, and they would never start fair; the only way is to put each in charge of a responsible man with a good watch, and let him start them. What time is the race? Oh, four o'clock. Well, I never yet saw a pony race that started on time; neither the ponies nor the boys are easy to handle, and I see there are ten of them. Watch them; it's after four, and they must be nearly ready to start.”
The ponies were strung out round the course, each with a “shepherd” standing to attention near its bridle, watch in hand. They could see Jim's great form standing sentinel over a tiny animal, whose diminutive rider was far too afraid of the huge Major to try to snatch even a yard of ground; nearer, Wally kept a wary eye on the experienced jockey on the blacksmith's racing mare, who was afraid of nothing, but nevertheless had a certain wholesome respect for the tall fellow who lounged easily against a tree near him, but never for an instant shifted his gaze. The shepherds were waiting for a signal from the official starter.