pretended to make a calculation, when the Yorkshireman affected fear, and professed his readiness to withdraw the offer.  The Baron then plucked up his courage, and after some haggling, the match was made for six Naps, the Yorkshireman reckoning the Baron might have ten francs in addition to what he had won of Mr. Jorrocks and himself.  The money was then deposited in the hands of the Countess Benvolio, and away went the trio to the “Cottage of Content,” to get men and ropes to measure and keep the ground.  The English jockeys and lads, though ready enough to pigeon a countryman themselves, have no notion of assisting a foreigner to do so, unless they share in the spoil, and the Baron being a notorious screw, they all seemed heartily glad to find him in a trap.  Out then they all sallied, amid cheers and shouts, while John Jones, with a yard-wand in his hand, proceeded to measure a hundred yards along the low side of the mound.  This species of amusement being far more in accordance with the taste of the French than anything in which horses are concerned, an immense mob flocked to the scene, and the Baron having explained how it was, and being considered a safe man to follow, numerous offers were made to bet against the performance of the match.  The Yorkshireman being a youth of discretion and accustomed to bet among strangers, got on five Naps more with different parties, who to “prevent accidents” submitted to deposit the money with the Countess, and all things being adjusted, and the course cleared by a picket of infantry, Mr. Jorrocks ungirded his sword, and depositing it with his frock-coat in the cab, walked up to the fifty yards he was to have for start.  “Now, Colonel,” said the Yorkshireman, backing him to the mound, so that he might leap on without shaking him, “put your best leg first, and it’s a hollow thing; if you don’t fall, you must win,”—­and thereupon taking Mr. Jorrocks’s cocked hat and feather from his head, he put it sideways on his own, so that he might not be recognised, and mounted his man.  Mr. Jorrocks then took his place as directed by John Jones, and at a signal from him—­the dropping of a blue cotton handkerchief—­away they started amid the shouts, the clapping of hands, and applause of the spectators, who covered the mound and lined the course on either side.  Mr. Jorrocks’s action was not very capital, his jack-boots and leathers rather impeding his limbs, while the Baron had as little on him as decency would allow.  The Yorkshireman feeling his man rather roll at the start, again cautioned him to take it easy, and after a dozen yards he got into a capital run, and though the lanky Baron came tearing along like an ill-fed greyhound, Mr. Jorrocks had full two yards to spare, and ran past the soldier, who stood with his cap on his bayonet as a winning-post, amid the applause of his backers, the yells of his opponents, and the general acclamation of the spectators.