Even then it was not too late to ask the Stewards to set McKay down, but
what proof had he to offer that there was anything wrong? The boy's
good name would be blasted should he, John Porter, say at the last
minute that he did not trust him; and perhaps the lad was innocent.
Race people were ready to cry out that a jockey was fixed-that there was
something wrong, when their own judgment was at fault and they lost.
Suddenly Porter gave a cry of astonishment. "My God!" he muttered, "the
boy has got spurs on. That'll set the mare clean crazy."
He turned to Dixon, who was at his elbow: "Why did you let McKay put on
the steels?"
"I told him not to." "He's got them on."
"They've got to come off," and the Trainer dashed up the steps to the
Stewards. In two minutes he returned, a heavy frown on his face.
"Well?" queried Porter.
"I've made a mess of it," answered Dixon, sullenly. "It seems there's
hints of a job on, an' the Stewards have got the wrong end of the
stick."
"They refused to let the mare go back to the paddock?" queried Porter.
"Yes; an' one of them said that if trainers would stick closer to their
horses, an' keep out of the bettin' ring, that the public'd get a better
run for their money.
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