UNDERGRADUATE PAGE

Going to the Dogs

By HUGH THOMAS (Queens' College, Cambridge) E lay back in Alex's car. Alex was taking us to the dogs. Alex drove hell-for-leather down the Bayswater road. He slowed down by the Queensway tube to ?tell us how much he had lost at the dogs since July. Mark nodded knowingly. Mark's wife gave a faint murmur of dis- approval but smiled. Soon we arrived. The pavements were engulfed by beige-mackintoshed crowds, everyone of whom Kemal to be carrying an. evening paper. Everyone looked tense and eager and apprehensive. Nobody was smiling.

We drove in through huge concrete gates. Liveried com- missionaires opened the doors of the car, bowed us out, pointed out the way. The car itself was taken away to the private garage Where people like Alex always kept their cars on Thursday and Saturday evenings between the hours of seven and ten. We went pn to the reception hall. Alex said " Good evening " to six eople and then we got into a lift. This took us up into a big wtand separated from the lesser stands by glass. Laid out on a PWies of terraces were dinner-tables, each lit by shaded lights and cut off from each other by wooden screens. Beyond, outside, below lay the.arena. "Didn't we come here for the horse show ? " said Mark's wife ; but nobody answered. A waiter showed us our table. 'Alex ran downstairs—two terraces down—and pulled out our kinks. We were sitting next to the glass and overlooking the Winning post. It was the best table.

" This is rather fine, isn't it ? " said Alex.

' " Very fine," I said.

" Have we missed anything ? " asked Mark.

" No, no," said Alex. " Just coming up for the first race. What are you drinking ? " Mark and Mark's wife and I had sherry. Alex ordered a bottle of whisky. " Can't drink wine," he said, " I get gout."

" Gout ? "

" Gout" A waiter appeared with menus. Alex was absorbed in the race-card. I had a race-card, too, but there seemed to be too ,many numbers on it. " What do these numbers mean ? " I asked.

" Well now, look here," said Alex, and he explained. It was very complicated. Mark had been before. He was talking to the waiter about the first race. " Well, I'm not at all sure," he said.

" What do you fancy ? " said Alex suddenly. I was not sure whether I was supposed to fancy something on the menu or the race-card. Alex settled it.

" I should have potted shrimps. Hors-d'oeuvres very bad iere." A basket with a bottle of wine appeared.

" I rather fancy the two-dog," said Alex. :" Very good chance the two-dog," said Mark in an authorita- lave tone. " Unless he gets shut in."

"Unless he gets shut in." " And the six-dog now. I'd back him."

" He's got fo get clear." " That's what I mean. The six-dog's got to get clear if he's going to do anything. Is that soup all right ? " Mark's wife said the soup was _heavenly. "Its excellent," I said. 1 added " What are you backing ? " " Six-dog and two-dog and one-two-six the forecast." "One-two-six the forecast ? "

" Well for the forecast you've got to get the first two all the way along. Twelve bob a time at two-bob units. Got it ? " Alex got up and disappeared, through a hole in the glass- casing. We watched him running down the steps in the dark into the crowd on the level with the track, among the bookies and the regulars and the out-for-a-jaunters. He had a few words with a bookie. He stayed there two minutes, then ran back up the steps two at a time.

All the exercise I ever take now," he said rejoining us, " running up and downstairs." At our table the man from the tote hovers ingratiatingly. Alex talks to him, quickly, unintelligibly. There is a rustle of •five- pound notes. Yellow tickets, red tickets, blue tickets shower on to the table. Mark and Mark's wife and I buy a modest two-bob interest in the much-fancied number two dog. We get one or two yellow tickets for ourselves.

Meantime, Alex's eyes narrow. The figures on the distant direction clocks flicker. It appears that the one-dog is favourite. The one-dog runs in a scarlet coat.

" You never can tell. Now the one-dog. . . ." " Of course, really you might just as well pick your lucky number to win rather than study the form."

" If your lucky number was in the first six numbers."

" Of course. Ha, ha, ha ! "

" Ha, ha, ha ! "

Down below it seems that something is at last going to happen. The six dogs are led round the edge of the track by their kennel- men. All the lights have gone off on the indication boards. Only the track itself stays lit up. The dark green of the grass is intense. The white of the kennel-men's overalls makes a vivid contrast. Behind the procession of dogs and kennelmen walks another man with a brush and pan. His job is obvious.

" You see that little man walking behind the dogs ? He gets paid a salary. He's the only person who always makes money following the dogs. See that ? The only man who makes money actually following dogs. See that ? Ha, ha, ha! "

" Ha, ha, ha !

" Ha, ha, ha ! "

" Oh that's a good one. Ha, ha, ha ! "

"He's off ! "

The hare—or is it a rabbit ?—is loosed on his first fling of the evening. He is just a white flash of light from the other side of the arena. (Arena may be the wrong word, but let it stay.) All unnecessary lights are now off. The bait shoots by the traps. The traps open. The dogs leap out. The six-dog is away in the lead. Alex watches with a connoisseur's eye.

" No, he'll never do it. Not far enough ahead at the first bend." " What about number two ? "

" Number two's doing very well. Very well number two."

But at the last bend first a dog in yellow then a dog in blue shoots into the lead. Number five wins. Number four is second. Number three is third. The race lasted almost half a minute.

" You never can tell," said Alex. " Never can tell. Fancy that five-dog winning. Splendid race. Marvellous race. Very exciting, what ? "

" Very exciting," I said.

"Did. you back the winner at all, Alex ? " asked Mark's wife.

" No. Sometimes I don't. Luck of the game, that's all."

Veal now appears on our places instead of soup. Dinner is going faster than the races. We turn to study the card for the next race. The next race is an even more open field. The race is even more exciting. Even the man from the tote commiserated with us over our losses.

" You never can tell," he said. We never could. But the dinner was excellent.

• We watched the last race from the ring-side. The two-dog won this time: His name was Corinthian Cad. He won in a very swashbuckling sort of. way. Mark's wife had backed .him. She won ten shillings. Alex hadn't. He lost ten pounds.

- The last race was over. Again, the commissionaires were very polite. The car appeared as if from nowhere. Once again Alex drove hell-for-leather down the Bayswater road. Once again we laid back in Alex's car. Alex's face wore the comfortable smile of one who had thrown away in a few hours what it took a month for most people to pick up.

We had enjoyed the evening. But not as much as Alex.