"You keep more than one in training?" I questioned.

"Several. If you like I will hand some over to you. Or, better still," he
added, "you might prefer to start a stable of your own. That would
introduce an element of competition. What about it?"

I accepted with alacrity. The very next day I made a start, and within a
week I had a team of my own in training. The walk to the station, which
formerly had been the blackest hour of the twenty-four, I now looked
forward to with the liveliest impatience. Every morning saw me early on the
road, ready to loiter until I found in my wake some merchant sedately
making his way stationwards to whom I could set the pace. I always took
care, however, not to race the same one too frequently or at too regular
intervals, and I take occasion to impress this caution on beginners.

In the train on the way to the City Piggott and I would compare notes,
carefully recording distances and times, and scoring points in my favour or
his. It would have been better perhaps had we contented ourselves with this
modest programme. Others will take warning from what befell. But with the
ambition of inexperience I suggested we should race two competitors one
against the other, and Piggott let himself be overpersuaded.

I entered my "Speedwell," a prominent stockjobber. Handicapped by the frame
of a _Falstaff_, he happily harbours within his girth a susceptibility to
panic, which, when appropriately stimulated, more than compensates for his
excess of bulk. The distance fixed was from the Green Man to the station, a
five-furlong scamper; the start to be by mutual consent.

Immediately on our interchange of signals I got my nominee in motion. This