The sporting chance

								


  THE
SPORTING CHANCE.

  BY


ALICE AND CLAUDE ASKEW,


AUTHORS OF
"THE SHULAMITE," "THE ETONIAN," "THE PLAINS OF SILENCE,"
"NOT PROVEN," ETC.

  ILLUSTRATED.

  LONDON:
WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED.
1910.

  CONTENTS.

  CHAPTER


I. Mostyn Makes his Debût
II. Mostyn Sees the Derby
III. Mostyn Accepts a Challenge
IV. Mostyn is Rebellious
V. Mostyn Realises his Position
VI. Mostyn is put on his Mettle
VII. Mostyn is Surprised
VIII. Mostyn Entertains a Guest
IX. Mostyn Makes a Purchase
X. Mostyn Learns his Error
XI. Mostyn Makes Reparation
XII. Mostyn Tells his Love
XIII. Mostyn Prepares for Battle
XIV. Mostyn Makes an Enemy
XV. Mostyn Faces Defeat
XVI. Mostyn is Tempted
XVII. Mostyn is Given Another Chance
XVIII. Mostyn Meets with an Accident
XIX. Mostyn is Better Understood
XX. Mostyn Completes his Task

THE SPORTING CHANCE.

CHAPTER I.
MOSTYN MAKES HIS DEBÛT.
"It may be old-fashioned to drive a coach to the Derby, but I'll be
in my coffin before I'll go down any other way!"  Thus, perpetrating
a characteristic "bull," spoke genial and popular "Old Rory," as he
was known to the best part of the world--Sir Roderick Macphane, to
give him his true title.
A few minutes back he had handed over the ribbons to one of the
grooms, who, with his fellow, was now busily engaged unharnessing the
horses, four fine roans, as handsome a team as the heart of man could
desire.  "Old Rory" was a famous whip, and, in spite of his advancing
years, a good all-round sportsman--a master of hounds, a familiar
figure on the race-course, and as good a judge of horse and dog flesh
as any in the country.  In his younger days he had been an intrepid
rider at the hurdles, an amateur of more than common merit.
There was, perhaps, no more popular man than "Rory" Macphane in the
three kingdoms.  He was laughed at, especially in Parliament, where
he held a seat for an Irish division, because of his quaint sayings
and frequent faux pas, but his good nature, charity, and kindness
of heart were admitted on all sides.  They were as palpable as his
sportsmanship.
Mostyn Clithero, who occupied a seat at the back of the coach
together with his friend and future brother-in-law, Pierce Trelawny,
a nephew of Sir Roderick's, enjoyed the comments of the crowd as the
coach threaded its way to the appointed place opposite the Grand
Stand.
"That's 'Old Rory,' what owns Hipponous."  How the populace murdered
the colt's name!  "The Derby winner--perhaps!  He's one of the best.
Look at the old sport sitting up there with his back as straight as a
lad's!  Good luck to ye, sir, and good luck to the 'oss!
Hip--Hip--Hipponous!"  This had become a popular catch-word, easily
taken up and repeated.
Sir Roderick smiled a little and nodded now and again, quite
conscious of his popularity and of that of his horse.  It was the