“Oh, no!” wailed Mr. Fetlock. “That’s another race lost! Where will it all end?”
Well, it certainly did not end that day. In the next race, in which Nifty Dancer was being ridden by Ted, everything went very well until the horses were going around for the second time. Then, just as Nifty Dancer was coming up into second place, he reared and threw Ted to the ground. The jockey was unhurt, but that was the end of the race for Nifty Dancer.
“I’ll be a ruined man at this rate,” said Mr. Fetlock, holding his brow. “It just isn’t fair!”
Then came the final race, and with my heart in my mouth I watched Black Lightning being ridden out to the starting line. Ed gave us a friendly wave from the saddle, and I waved back, hoping against hope that the incident with the glue would have no ill effects on Black Lightning’s performance. But just as I thought this, I saw something that shattered any hopes I might have had. Standing at the starting line, Black Lightning put up his head and gave an unmistakable yawn!
In a flash the mystery was solved. With his hooves glued to the stable floor, the poor horse had been unable to sleep all night. So now, just when he should have been at his most energetic, he was absolutely exhausted, and even I knew that absolutely exhausted horses never won races.
And that is exactly what happened. Black Lightning could hardly bring himself to gallop, and when he did so, it was the slowest gallop I have ever seen. The crowd around the railings began to laugh.
“Wake up!” they shouted. “It’s only one o’clock!”
Mr. Fetlock turned red with embarrassment.
“I’m going back to the truck,” he said. “This is all too terrible.”
I walked back with him, but I was unable to say anything. Later, when Ed joined us again, I noticed that he was still looking at me very suspiciously.
A Cheat Exposed
We were to go to more races first thing the following day, and so I went to bed early. Thinking about the day’s events kept me awake for a while, but at last I drifted off to sleep. I had bad dreams, though—dreams in which horses were running around in circles, falling over one another, whinnying in alarm. But it was not the dreams that woke me up. It was a noise.
I sat up in bed. Somewhere in the stables, somebody had dropped something, and it had fallen with a clang. I reached out in the darkness for the flashlight that stood on my bedside table and switched it on. Then, putting on my bathrobe and slippers, I crept as quietly as I could to my door.
There was a moon in the sky, a great silver ball that bathed the yard and the stables in a soft half-light. The shadows, though, were dark and seemed as if they could be concealing all kinds of dangers. I looked around me, and just as I did so I heard a noise again. This time it was softer, as though somebody was moving something around.
I turned off my flashlight and tiptoed quietly in the direction from which the noise was coming. There was a saddle room next to one of the horse stalls, and it seemed to me that whoever was making the noise was in there.
Slowly, I inched my way toward the door of the saddle room. It was closed, but through the cracks in the wood I could just make out the glow of a flashlight inside. I was sure of it now: whoever was inside was preparing to sabotage tomorrow’s races. He was doing something to one of the saddles, perhaps, so that it would fall off in the middle of the race. The thought of it made me seethe with anger, and I was more determined than ever to see who it was and expose him to Mr. Fetlock. How proud Aunt Japonica and Aunt Thessalonika would be that I had solved my first mystery so quickly!
Then I sneezed. It was not one of those sneezes that you know are coming and that you can stop by pressing your finger against your nose. It was one of those loud ones that come out in a rush before you know where you are.
I stood stock still. The sneeze had been so loud that it couldn’t have been missed by the person in the saddle room. I listened hard. Everything was quiet, but I saw the flashlight beam move inside the room, and I knew that I had to hide quickly.
I looked around me. My own room was too far away for me to run to, but there was a storeroom close by, and I could see that its door was open. Dashing across the yard, I flung myself through the storeroom door and crouched down in a far corner, hidden in the shadows.
There was the sound of a door opening outside. Then a voice came drifting across the yard. It was not much louder than a whisper, but it carried very well in the stillness of the night.
“I know you’re there! And I’m going to find you!”
I shivered with fear. With its open door, the storeroom was an obvious place to hide, and the person out there, whether it was Ted, Fred, or Ed, was bound to find me.
I looked around. If only there had been a trapdoor or a large box I could crawl into. But there was nothing. The only thing I could make out properly in the moonlight coming through the window was a large pot with a brush sticking out of it.
That was it! That was the way to save myself!
The footsteps outside grew louder. Now they were right outside the storeroom door. Then the beam of the flashlight appeared and flashed across the room. At first it missed me, but when it came back for its second swing, there I was, crouched down, caught square in the beam of light.
“So!” said the voice. “It’s you! I knew there was something funny about you from the beginning. You’re not a jockey, but a spy!”
I was too terrified to say anything.
“Well, well!” said the person at the door. Slowly he began to walk toward me.
He stopped.
“What … what?” came a puzzled voice. And then, squelch, squelch, squelch, and silence.
“What’s going on?” said the voice angrily. “What have you done?”
I knew that it was safe for me to get up, so I leapt to my feet and ran across to the light switch. As the light came on, all was revealed. There was a pair of boots firmly stuck in the thick layer of glue I had spread on the floor in front of the doorway. And there, in the boots, looking trapped and flustered, was … Ted!
“So you’re the cheat,” I said, my voice sounding very disappointed. I had expected it to be Ed, or maybe even Fred; instead, it was the pleasant, smiling Ted.
Ted looked down at his boots.
“Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” I said sharply. “Poor Mr. Fetlock doesn’t deserve what you’ve been doing to him.”
Ted still hung his head.
“I know,” he said. “It’s been very bad of me. But they forced me to do it.”
“They?” I asked. “Who are they?”
“The League of Cheats,” said Ted sadly. “They found me cheating just a tiny bit once. I normally never cheat, and I don’t know why I did that time. Anyway, they told me if I didn’t join them, they’d tell everybody about my cheating, and I’d be ruined.”
I looked at the jockey. A tear was running down his right cheek, and I felt very sorry for him.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll explain it to Mr. Fetlock and ask him not to be too severe with you.”
Ted lifted his face and beamed with pleasure.
“Oh, thank you,” he said. “Thank you so much.”
“But in return,” I went on, “you must tell me all about the League of Cheats and help us to put a stop to their cheating. Will you do that?”
Ted looked a bit worried, but he knew that he had to agree.
“I could try,” he said.
I moved over to him and began to help him out of the boots, which were firmly stuck to the floor.
“Good,” I said. “Now you tell me everything you know, and we can work out a plan.”
Ted told me everything he knew about the League of Cheats. It was run, he said, by a man he had never seen, a man called Charlie Heat. He was the Chief Cheat, and he arranged cheating all over the place. But it was impossible to find him by yourself. What you had to do was to be seen by one of his men to be a good cheat, and then they would ask you to join. If you cheated very well, you might be taken to mee
t Charlie Heat.
“So,” said Ted, smiling as the idea came to him, “why don’t we arrange for you to cheat at the races tomorrow and see what happens?”
It was a good idea, but there was something that worried me. Ted’s plan meant that I would have to ride a racehorse, and not only that, it involved a very, very uncomfortable end. But I had no alternative. I was determined to put an end to the League of Cheats, and if this meant that I had to take risks, then I would be happy to do just that.
The Water Jump
The racetrack was already crowded by the time we arrived. I looked at the faces of the crowd, hoping to see my aunts, but there was still no sign of them. I was longing to be able to tell them of the plan that Ted and I had hatched, and to find out what they thought of it.
We saddled the horses and led them to the pen where the jockeys were preparing to mount. Mr. Fetlock stayed behind at the rail, where he was talking to a friend. From time to time, he glanced nervously at Black Lightning, wondering whether his favorite racehorse would let him down again.
“Are you ready?” Ted whispered to me. “Are you sure you still want to go ahead with it?”
“Yes,” I replied under my breath, trying not to sound too nervous. I was ready, and I did want to go ahead with it, but part of me was wishing that I had never agreed to the plan.
“All right,” said Ted. “I’ll give you a leg up.”
And with that I found myself being hoisted up and onto Black Lightning’s back. It all happened very quickly, and before I knew where I was, I had the reins in my hand and Black Lightning had joined the cluster of horses making their way toward the starting gate.
“Good luck!” Ted called out. “Remember to hold on tight!”
I gritted my teeth and concentrated on staying in the saddle. Although Black Lightning was only walking, there was a spring in his step that worried me. Would I be able to hold on for more than a few moments once the race started? I doubted it.
We reached the starting gate, where the starters led each horse into the squashed little boxes that allowed everybody to charge off at the same time. I could tell that Black Lightning was excited by the way he pawed at the ground, and I wished that he was as tired as he had been the previous day.
“Are you ready?” called out one of the starters. Then the starting pistol rang out, the doors of the starting gates fell open, and there in front of us stretched the racetrack with its jumps.
Black Lightning gave a leap, which took me completely by surprise. For a moment it seemed as if we were both in the air, but then I felt the thud of his galloping hooves against the turf. I shot up and down in the saddle, holding onto the reins with one hand and desperately trying to keep myself on Black Lightning with the other.
I had little chance to look around me, but I’m sure that I saw Mr. Fetlock’s face flashing past me at the rail. His mouth was open with surprise, and I think he shouted out something, but I was soon past him.
I looked ahead. It was a miracle that I was still on Black Lightning at all, and now we were coming up to the first jump. It seemed very high—far too high to get over—but Black Lightning’s ears were flattened against his head, and he seemed determined to clear it.
With a great leap, the racehorse launched himself into the air. I saw the top of the jump passing below me, and I felt the air rushing past in a cool torrent. And then, having gone as high as he could go, Black Lightning began to sink back to the earth beneath him.
I didn’t. As the horse went down, I stayed up, and when I next looked, the saddle was no longer below me. There was nothing but the wide pond of water that always comes after the water jump.
I closed my eyes. Down I tumbled, down toward the waiting water, and then, with a splash, I was in it. The water broke my fall, of course, and I was unhurt, but there I was, sitting in the middle of the pond, covered in muddy water with the other horses and jockeys flying over my head. I felt very foolish, but at the same time I was very pleased indeed that the race was over as far as I was concerned.
“Well done!” said Ted as he came out to collect me and to lead me back to the saddling pen. “Everybody thinks you fell off deliberately.”
“I didn’t!” I said. “I was going to fall off a bit later, on some nice, soft grass.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Ted went on. “They think you meant to fall off, so that Black Lightning would not win. In fact, here comes one of them now.”
I looked behind me. There was a rather dishonest-looking man coming over. He smiled at me and passed me a clean white handkerchief.
“Mop your face with that,” he said. “That was a very clever fall.”
“Thank you,” I said. “It took a lot of practice to get it just right.”
He nodded. “We like to see cheating as good as that.” He glanced over his shoulder. Ted had melted away and there was nobody else around. “In fact, would you be interested in meeting somebody who could help you with your cheating?”
My heart gave a leap. This was it! This was the invitation that would enable me to expose the League of Cheats.
“I would,” I said eagerly.
“Then come with me,” the man said, nodding in the direction of the other end of the racetrack. “I’ll take you to the boss.”
Charlie Heat
We struggled through the crowd of racegoers, the dishonest-looking man leading the way. Some of the people recognized me as the jockey who had ridden Black Lightning and fallen off so quickly. One or two of them muttered something under their breath, and another hissed “Cheat” as I walked past.
There were several cars and trucks parked at the end of the racetrack. Here and there, groups of men were standing around, talking to one another or unsaddling horses. My companion approached one of these groups, telling me to wait until he called me over. I stood where I was, watching while he spoke briefly to a rather fat figure in a white suit. As he did so, this man looked over in my direction and then nodded. With a wave of the hand I was beckoned over.
I walked toward them slowly, my heart beating like a hammer within me. I had succeeded in getting right to the heart of the League of Cheats, but what now? Ted had promised that he would arrive with Mr. Fetlock, but where were they? Did he expect me to challenge Charlie Heat myself?
The fat man was looking hard at me.
“I saw your fall,” he said. “It was a good piece of cheating, very good.”
I looked at his eyes. They were like the eyes of a snake, small and bright, and very, very sly. Even if I did not know who he was, I would have distrusted him immediately. There was something about him that was frightening. He was the sort of person you met in nightmares, the sort of person who made you wake up with the sharp taste of fear in your mouth.
“I could use your help,” he went on, his eyes still boring into me. “I could find work for you.”
I pretended not to understand. “What sort of work?” I asked. “Would it be with horses?”
Charlie Heat smiled. “Horses could come into it,” he said. “But there’d be other things too. There are all kinds of things to cheat in, you know: running competitions, jumping competitions, quiz shows, dog shows, cat shows. In fact, anything at all.”
I listened to him in astonishment. What possible reason could there be for cheating on such a scale? Was he crazy? Perhaps that was the answer: perhaps Charlie Heat was a madman after all.
I decided to find out directly.
“But how do you manage to cheat in all those things?” I asked.
As I asked my question, Charlie Heat’s eyes began to glow, and he started to shake as he gave his answer.
“It’s because of them!” he said. “All those so-called honest people! Oh, I could tell you a thing or two! I could tell you about the time I sabotaged a dog show by slipping in a cat disguised as a dog. The dogs went wild! You’ve never seen such a scene. It totally ruined the show!”
He laughed out loud, a horrible, sneering laugh. Then he went on, “And then the
re was the time my buddy Billy entered a swimming contest and I had my people secretly sew lead weights into the swimsuits of the other competitors. Oh, that was a treat! It was all they could do to keep afloat, let alone swim fast. My friend won by six lengths, he did! Six lengths!”
“But why do you like cheating so much?” The question slipped out without my thinking.
He looked at me as if he was puzzled that anybody could ask such a silly thing.
“Why do I like cheating?” he asked. “As I told you, it’s because of them—those snivelling, sneaky, ‘Aren’t I better than you?’ honest people. They accused me of cheating when I was a little boy, and I shall never forgive them for it. I vowed to make them pay for it, and I certainly have!”
“And did you cheat when you were a boy?” I asked.
“Of course I did,” snapped Charlie Heat. “Who wouldn’t?”
For a moment I said nothing. Then I could contain myself no longer.
“I wouldn’t!” I shouted. “I think cheating’s a terrible thing to do. And I would never, never work for you and your League of Cheats!”
There! I had said it. But what would happen now?
His eyes opened wide, and I could tell that I had surprised him.
“Who told you about the League of Cheats?” he asked icily.
I took a deep breath. It was no use waiting for Ted and Mr. Fetlock now. I would have to be brave.
“I know all about you,” I said. “You’re Charlie Heat, president of the League of Cheats. You’ve been cheating Mr. Fetlock and lots of other people too. And we’re going to show you up for what you are!”
Charlie Heat’s eyes narrowed again, and he took a quick step forward. Then, in a sudden swoop, he grabbed the lapels of my jacket and lifted me up in the air.
“Oh, yes?” he said menacingly. “And who’s going to believe you?”
I opened my mouth to reply, but no sound came out. I was so frightened that my tongue seemed to have stuck to the top of my mouth. I tried to wriggle free, but Charlie Heat’s grip was too tight, and I only found myself more firmly trapped. Then, just when I thought that all was lost, I heard a voice from behind us.
The Harriet Bean 3-Book Omnibus Page 8