Each boy as his name was called drew a ticket from the hat, and opened it; and most of the bigger boys, after drawing, left the hall directly to go back to their studies or the fifth-form room.

The sporting interest had all drawn blanks, and they were sulky accordingly; neither of the favourites had yet been drawn, and it had come down to the upper-fourth.

So now, as each small boy came up and drew his ticket, it was seized and opened by Flashman, or some other of the standers-by.
But no great favourite is drawn until it comes to the Tadpole's turn, and he shuffles up and draws, and tries to make off, but is caught, and his ticket is opened like the rest.
"Here you are! Wanderer--the third favourite!" shouts the opener.
"I say, just give me my ticket, please," remonstrates Tadpole.
"Hullo! don't be in a hurry," breaks in Flashman; "what'll you sell Wanderer for now ?" "I don't want to sell," rejoins Tadpole.
"Oh, don't you! Now listen, you young fool: you don't know anything about it; the horse is no use to you.

He won't win, but I want him as a hedge.

Now, I'll give you half a crown for him." Tadpole holds out, but between threats and cajoleries at length sells half for one shilling and sixpence--about a fifth of its fair market value; however, he is glad to realize anything, and, as he wisely remarks, "Wanderer mayn't win, and the tizzy is safe anyhow." East presently comes up and draws a blank.