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diff --git a/17965-h/17965-h.htm b/17965-h/17965-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..062c136 --- /dev/null +++ b/17965-h/17965-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,14476 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Boy Woodburn, by Alfred Ollivant. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + + .TOC {list-style-type: upper-roman; + margin-left: 3em; + text-align: left; + line-height: 150%} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Boy Woodburn, by Alfred Ollivant + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Boy Woodburn + A Story of the Sussex Downs + +Author: Alfred Ollivant + +Release Date: March 11, 2006 [EBook #17965] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BOY WOODBURN *** + + + + +Produced by David Garcia, Graeme Mackreth and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h3>BOY WOODBURN</h3> + + + + +<p class="center"><small> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By the same Author:</span><br /> +<br /> +BOB, SON OF BATTLE<br /> +THE GENTLEMAN<br /> +REDCOAT CAPTAIN<br /> +THE ROYAL ROAD<br /> +THE BROWN MARE<br /></small> +</p> + + +<p class="center" style="margin-top: 2em;"> +<img src="images/illus01s.png" alt="Horse" /> +</p> + + +<p class="center" style="margin-bottom: 5em;"> FOUR-POUND-THE-SECOND<br /> + +"Look at that head-piece. He's all the while a-thinkin', that hoss is. +That's the way he's bred."</p> + + + + + +<h1>BOY</h1> +<h1>WOODBURN</h1> + +<h3>A STORY OF THE</h3> +<h3>SUSSEX DOWNS</h3> +<h5>By</h5> +<h4>ALFRED OLLIVANT</h4> + +<p class="center" style="margin-top: 5em;"><small>GARDEN CITY NEW YORK<br /> +DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY<br /> +1918<br /></small> +</p> + + + + +<p class="center" style="margin-top: 5em;"><small>Copyright, 1918, by<br /> + +Doubleday, Page & Company<br /> + +All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign +languages including the Scandinavian</small></p> + + + + +<p class="center" style="margin-top: 5em;"><b> +TO<br /> +THE MOTHER<br /> +OF<br /> +LAUGHTER +</b></p> + + + +<h3>Contents</h3> + +<h4><a href="#PART_I">PART I<br /> +THE GIRL AND THE FOAL</a></h4> +<h4><a href="#BOOK_I">BOOK I<br /> +OLD MAT</a></h4> + +<p style="margin-left: 5em;"><b>CHAPTER</b></p> + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_I"> <span class="smcap">The Trainer</span></a> +</li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_II"> <span class="smcap">Boy Shows Her Metal</span></a> +</li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_III"> <span class="smcap">Goosey Gander</span></a> +</li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_IV"> <span class="smcap">The Gypsy's Mare</span> </a> +</li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_V"><span class="smcap"> Across the Downs</span> </a> +</li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_VI"> <span class="smcap">Putnam's</span> </a> +</li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_VII"> <span class="smcap">Ally Sloper</span> </a> +</li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"> <span class="smcap">The Great Beast</span></a> +</li> +</ul> +<h4><a href="#BOOK_II">BOOK II<br /> +THE WATCHER</a></h4> +<ul class="TOC"> +<li value="9"> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX"> <span class="smcap">Patience Longstaffe</span> </a> +</li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_X"><span class="smcap">Her Daughter</span></a> +</li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI"><span class="smcap">Brazil Silver</span> </a> +</li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XII"> <span class="smcap">The Eton Man</span></a> +</li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII"> <span class="smcap">Boy in Her Eyrie</span></a> +</li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV"> <span class="smcap">Old Man Badger</span></a> +</li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XV"> <span class="smcap">The Three J's</span></a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI"> <span class="smcap">The Fat Man</span></a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII"> <span class="smcap">Boy Sees a Vision</span> </a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII"> <span class="smcap">Two on the Downs</span></a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX"> <span class="smcap">Cannibal's National</span></a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XX"> <span class="smcap">The Paddock Close</span></a></li> +</ul> + +<h4><a href="#BOOK_III">BOOK III<br /> +SILVER MUG</a></h4> +<ul class="TOC"> +<li value="21"> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI"> <span class="smcap">The Berserker Colt</span></a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII"> <span class="smcap">Ragamuffin</span></a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII"> <span class="smcap">The Duke's Hounds</span></a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV"> <span class="smcap">The Man With the Gamp</span> </a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXV"> <span class="smcap">The Black Bird</span> </a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI"> <span class="smcap">Jim Silver Goes To War</span></a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII"> <span class="smcap">The Fire in the Dusk</span> </a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII"> <span class="smcap">The Fat Man Goes Under</span></a></li> +</ul> +<p style="margin-left:5.5em;"><a href="#Battle"><span class="smcap">Battle</span> </a> +</p> + +<h4><a href="#PART_II">PART II<br /> +THE WOMAN AND THE HORSE</a></h4> + +<h4><a href="#BOOK_IV">BOOK IV<br /> +THE TRIAL</a></h4> +<ul class="TOC"> +<li value="29"> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX"> <span class="smcap">Albert Edward</span></a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXX"> <span class="smcap">The Bible Class</span></a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI"> <span class="smcap">God Almighty's Mustang</span> </a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII"><span class="smcap">The Fat Man Emerges</span></a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII"><span class="smcap">The Gallop</span> </a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV"> <span class="smcap">The Lover's Quarrel</span></a></li> +</ul> + +<h4><a href="#BOOK_V">BOOK V<br /> +MONKEY BRAND</a></h4> +<ul class="TOC"> +<li value="35"> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV"><span class="smcap">The Dancer's Son</span> </a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI"> <span class="smcap">Monkey Sulks</span></a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII"> <span class="smcap">The Early Bird</span></a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII"> <span class="smcap">Ikey's Own</span> </a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX"><span class="smcap">The Queen of Kentucky</span></a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XL"><span class="smcap">Man and Woman</span></a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLI"><span class="smcap">The Spider's Web</span> </a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLII"> <span class="smcap">The Doper</span></a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLIII"><span class="smcap">The Loose-box</span> </a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLIV"> <span class="smcap">Monkey Brand Gets the Sack</span> </a></li> +</ul> +<h4><a href="#BOOK_VI">BOOK VI<br /> +MOCASSIN</a></h4> +<ul class="TOC"> +<li value="45"> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLV"><span class="smcap">Aintree</span></a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLVI"><span class="smcap">The Sefton Arms</span> </a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLVII"> <span class="smcap">On the Course</span> </a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLVIII"> <span class="smcap">The Star-spangled Jacket</span></a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLIX"> <span class="smcap">The Last Card</span> </a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_L"><span class="smcap">The Fat Man Takes His Ticket</span></a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_LI"> <span class="smcap">Old Mat on Heaven and Earth</span> </a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_LII"> <span class="smcap">Putnam's Once More</span> </a></li> +</ul> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<a name="PART_I" id="PART_I"></a><h4>PART I<br /> + +THE GIRL AND THE FOAL</h4> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<a name="BOOK_I" id="BOOK_I"></a><h4>BOOK I<br /> +OLD MAT</h4> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a><h4>CHAPTER I<br /> +<span class="smcap">The Trainer</span></h4> +<br /> +<br /> +<p>The Spring Meeting at Polefax was always Old Mat's day out. And it was +part of the accepted order of things that he should come to the Meeting +driving in his American buggy behind the horse with which later in the +day he meant to win the Hunters' Steeplechase. +</p> +<p>There were very few sporting men who remembered the day when Mat had not +been a leading figure in the racing world. For sixty years he had been +training jumpers, and he looked as if he would continue to train them +till the end of time. Once it may be supposed he had been Young Mat, but +he had been Old Mat now as long as most could recall. In all these +years, indeed, he had changed very little. He trained his horses to-day +at Putnam's, the farm in the village of Cuckmere, over the green billow +of the Downs, just as he had done in the beginning; and he trained the +same kind of horses in the same kind of way, which was entirely +different from that of other trainers. +</p> +<p>Mat rarely had a good horse in his stable, and never a bad one. He kept +his horses in old barns and farm-stables, turning them out on to the +chalk Downs in all seasons of the year with little shelter but the lee +of a haystack or an occasional shed. +</p> +<p>"I don't keep my hosses in no 'ot-house," he would say. "A hoss wants a +heart, not a hot-water bottle. He'll get it on the chalk, let him be." +</p> +<p>But if his horses were rough, they stood up and they stayed.</p> +<p> +And that was all he wanted: for Mat never trained anything but jumpers.</p> +<p> +"Flat racin' for flats," was a favourite saying of his. "'Chasin' for +class."</p> +<p> +And many of his wins have become historic; notably the Grand National in +the year of Sedan—when Merry Andrew, who had three legs and one lung, +so the story went, won for him by two lengths; and thirty years later +Cannibal's still more astounding victory in the same race, when Monkey +Brand out-jockeyed Chukkers Childers, the American crack, in one of the +most desperate set-to's in the annals of Aintree.</p> +<p> +There is a famous caricature of Mat leading in the winner on the first +of these occasions. He looked then much as he does to-day—like +Humpty-Dumpty of the nursery ballad; but he grew always more +Humpty-Dumptyish with the years. His round red head, bald and shining, +sat like a poached egg between the enormous spread of his shoulders. His +neck, always short, grew shorter and finally disappeared; and his crisp, +pink face had the air of one who finds breathing a perpetually +increasing difficulty.</p> +<p> +In build Mat was very short, and very broad; and his legs were so thin +that it was no wonder they were somewhat bowed beneath their load. Far +back in the Dark Ages, when his body was more on a par with his legs, +it was rumoured that Mat had himself won hunt-races.</p> +<p> +"Then my body went on, or rayther spread out," he would tell his +intimates, "while me legs stayed where they was. So Mat become a trainer +'stead of a jockey."</p> +<p> +And Mat's legs were not the only part of him that had stayed as they +were in those remote days. He wore the same clothes now as then; or if +not the identical clothes, as many averred, clothes of the identical +cut. Younger trainers, who were fond of having their joke with the old +man, would often inquire of him,</p> +<p> +"Who's your tailor, Mat?"</p> +<p> +To which the invariable answer in the familiar wheeze was,</p> +<p> +"He died reign o' William the Fo'th, my son. Don't you wish he'd lived +to show <i>your</i> Snips how to cut a coat?"</p> +<p> +Mat indeed was distinctly early Victorian in his dress. He always wore a +stock instead of a tie, and the felt hat with a flat top and +broad-curled brim, which a rising young Radical statesman, for whom Mat +had once trained, had imitated. He walked with a curious and +characteristic lilt, as of a boy, rising on his toes as though reaching +after heaven. And his eye underlined, as it were, the mischievous gaiety +of his walk. It was a baffling eye: bright, blue, merry as a robin's and +very shrewd; "the eye of a cherubim," Mat once described it himself. +When it turned on you, grave yet twinkling, you knew that it summed you +up, saw through you, was aware of your wickedness, condoned it, pitied +you, comforted you, and bade you rejoice in the world and its crooked +ways. It was an innocent eye, a dewy eye, and yet a mighty knowing one. +Whether the owner of the eye was a saint or a sinner you could not +affirm. Therefore it bade you beware what you said, what you did, and +not least, what you thought, while its mild yet radiant beams were +turned upon you. One thing was quite certain: that blue eye had seen a +great deal. More, it had enjoyed the seeing. And its owner had a way of +wiping it as he ended some tale of rascality, successful or exposed, +with his habitual cliché—"I wep a tear. I did reelly," which made you +realize that the only tears it had in fact ever wept were in truth tears +of suppressed laughter over the foolishness of mortals. It had never +mourned over a lost sinner, though it had often winked over one. And it +had profound and impenetrable reserves.</p> +<p> +And the trainer's ups and downs in life, if all the stories were true, +had been amazing. At one time it was said that he was worth a cool +£100,000, and at another a minus quantity. But rich or poor, he never +changed his life by an iota, jogging soberly along his appointed if +somewhat tortuous way.</p> +<p> +Old Mat was nothing if not a character. And if he was by no means more +scrupulous than the rest of his profession, he had certain steadfast +virtues not always to be found in his brethren of the Turf. He never +drank, he never smoked, and, win or lose, he never swore. A great +raconteur, his stories were most amusing and never obscene. And when +late in life he married Patience Longstaffe, the daughter of the +well-known preacher of <i>God-First</i> farm on the North of the Downs +between Lewes and Cuckmere, nobody was much surprised. As Mr. Haggard, +the Vicar of Cuckmere, said,</p> +<p> +"Mat could always be expected to do the unexpected."</p> +<p> +That Patience Longstaffe, the Puritan daughter of Preacher Joe, should +marry the old trainer was a matter of amazement to all. But she did; and +nobody had reason to think that she ever regretted it.</p> +<p> +Patience Longstaffe became in time Ma Woodburn, though she remained +Patience Longstaffe still.</p> +<p> +Mat and his Ma had one daughter between them, known to all and sundry in +the racing world as Boy Woodburn.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a><h4>CHAPTER II<br /> +<span class="smcap">Boy Shows Her Metal</span></h4> + +<p> +The Polefax Meeting was small and friendly; never taken very seriously +by the fraternity, and left almost entirely to local talent. Old Mat +described it always as reg'lar old-fashioned. The countryside made of it +an annual holiday and flocked to the fields under Polefax Beacon to see +the horses and to enjoy Old Mat, who was the accepted centre-piece.</p> +<p> +The Grand Stand was formed of Sussex wains drawn up end to end; and the +Paddock was just roped off.</p> +<p> +Outside the ropes, at the foot of the huge green wave of the Downs, were +the merry-go-rounds, the cocoanut-shies and wagons of the gypsies; while +under a group of elms the carts and carriages of the local farmers and +gentry were drawn up.</p> +<p> +There, too, of course, was Mat's American buggy, a spidery concern, made +to the old man's design, seated like a double dog-cart, and looking +amongst the solid carts and carriages that flanked it like a ghost +amongst mortals. It was the most observed vehicle of them all, partly +because of its unusual make and shape, and partly because that was the +famous shay in which year after year Mat drove over the Downs from +Putnam's behind the horse with which he meant to win the Hunters' +Steeplechase.</p> +<p> +That race, always the last item on the programme, and the most +looked-for, was about to begin.</p> +<p> +The quality in the Paddock were climbing to their places in the wagons. +The voices of the bookies were raised vociferously. The crowd jostled +about them, eager to back Old Mat's old horse, Goosey Gander. They +believed in the old man's luck, they believed in the old man's horse, +they believed in the old man's jockey, Monkey Brand, almost as famous +locally as his master.</p> +<p> +A boy slipped into the Paddock and began to bet surreptitiously behind +the dressing-tent.</p> +<p> +He was fair, slight, and horsey. His stiff, tight choker, his horse-shoe +pin, the cut of his breeches, his alert and wary air of a man of the +world, all betrayed the racing-lad. From the corner of his mouth hung a +cigarette waggishly a-rake; and his billycock had just the correct and +knowing cock. He kept well under the lee of the tent; and if he was +brazen, it was clear that he was sinning and fearful of discovery: for +he had one eye always on the watch for the Avenging Angel who might +swoop down on him at any moment.</p> +<p> +"What price, Goosey Gander?" he asked in a voice harsh and cracking.</p> +<p> +"Give you threes," replied the bookie.</p> +<p> +"Do it in dollars," replied the boy, with the magnificent sang-froid of +one who goes to ruin as a man of blood should go.</p> +<p> +"And again?" asked the bookie.</p> +<p> +The answer was never forth-coming; for the Avenging Angel, not +unexpected, swept down upon the sinner with flaming sword.</p> +<p> +She was in the shape of a girl about the lad's own age and size, fair as +was he and slight, a flapper with a short thick straw-coloured plait. +She came round the tent swift and terrible as a rapier, her steel-gray +eyes flashing and fierce. Such determination on so young a face the +bookie thought he had never seen. For a moment he expected to see her +strike her victim. And the boy apparently expected the same, for he +cowered back, putting up his hands as though to ward off a blow.</p> +<p> +"Got you, sonny," said the bookie, and bolted with a half-hearted grin.</p> +<p> +The girl never hesitated. She leapt upon her victim, keen and direct as +a tigress.</p> +<p> +"Give me that ticket!" she ordered in a deep bass voice whose +earnestness was almost awful.</p> +<p> +The boy had recovered from his first shock.</p> +<p> +"It were only——"</p> +<p> +"Give me that ticket!"</p> +<p> +Reluctantly the lad obeyed.</p> +<p> +"Spit out that cigarette!"</p> +<p> +Again he obeyed. The girl put her broad flat heel on the chewed remnant +and churned it into the mud.</p> +<p> +"Any others?"</p> +<p> +"No, Miss."</p> +<p> +"You have!—I'll search you."</p> +<p> +"Only a packet o' woodbines, Miss."<br /> +<br /> +She pocketed them remorselessly.</p> +<p> +"Leave the paddock!"</p> +<p> +The boy went, slow and sullen. Then he became aware of people watching +beyond the ropes and recovered himself with a jerk.</p> +<p> +"Yes, Miss. Very good, Miss," he cried cheerfully, touched his hat, and +began to run as on an errand.</p> +<p> +It was a pretty piece of bluff. Boy Woodburn, in spite of her anger, +marked it down to the credit side of the lad's account. When he was +collared, Albert Edward kept his head. That would help him one day when +he was caught in a squeeze in a big race and had to jockey to get +through.</p> +<p> +The roar from the crowd told her the race had started. She flashed back +to the ropes, a slight figure, in simple blue serge, the radiant plait +of her hair flapping as she ran.</p> +<p> +Old Mat, standing a little behind the crowd at the ropes, had watched +the scene.</p> +<p> +"One o' my lads," he said in his mysterious wheeze to the big young man +at his side. "'No smokin', swearin', or bettin' in <i>my</i> stable!'—that's +Miss Boy's rule. Gets it from Mar." The girl passed them swiftly and the +old man hid his betting-book behind him. "Well, Boy, sossed him?" he +asked innocently.</p> +<p> +"He's not the only one," retorted the girl.</p> +<p> +"O, I'm not bettin', Boy," pleaded the old man in the whimsical whine +which he adopted when addressing his daughter. "Don't go and tell your +mother that now. It wouldn't be right. Reelly it wouldn't. I'm only +makin' a note or two for Mr. Silver here."</p> +<p> +The girl was lost in the crowd by the ropes.</p> +<p> +"She'd ha' come and sossed me, too, only you was with me," wheezed the +old man confidentially. "You stick close to me, there's a dear. You're +like a putection to an old man. She won't do me no 'arm while you're by, +de we."</p> +<p> +The other smiled. He was an upstanding young man, with the shoulders and +the bearing of a soldier; and there was something large and slow and +elemental about him. He wore white riding-breeches and tan-coloured +boots. The blood polo-pony under the elms, with the little group of +coachmen and grooms gathered in an admiring circle round him, was his: +and those who had seen Mat drive on to the course in the morning knew +that the young man had ridden over the Downs from Putnam's with him.</p> +<p> +Boy took her place at the ropes.</p> +<p> +The young man found himself standing at her side. He did not watch the +race. That keen young face at his side, so self-contained and strong, +absorbed him.</p> +<p> +Once the girl looked up swiftly, and he was aware of her gray eyes, that +flashed in his and were instantly withdrawn, to follow the bob of the +heads of the jockeys lifting over a fence on the far side of the course.</p> +<p> +"Lul-like my glasses?" he asked, with a slight stutter.</p> +<p> +"No," she said. "I can see."</p> +<p> +Later she climbed on to the top of an upturned hamper. As the horses +made the turn for home, he heard her draw her breath.</p> +<p> +"Is he down?" he asked.</p> +<p> +"No," she said. "He's got 'em beat."</p> +<p> +"How do you know?"</p> +<p> +"He's begun to ride," replied the girl briefly.</p> +<p> +Old Mat was nibbling his pencil in the rear.</p> +<p> +"How's it going, Boy?" he wheezed.</p> +<p> +"All right," replied the girl. "He's through now."</p> +<p> +The dirty green of the Woodburn colours topped the last fence; and +Goosey Gander came lolloping down the straight, his jockey, head on +shoulder, wary to the end, easing him home.</p> +<p> +"That's a little bit o' better," said Old Mat comfortably, totting up +his accounts.</p> +<p> +"By Jove, he's a fine horseman!" cried the young man with boyish +enthusiasm.</p> +<p> +"Monkey Brand!" said the girl, without emotion. "One of the has-beens, I +should say."</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a><h4>CHAPTER III<br /> +<span class="smcap">Goosey Gander</span></h4> +<p> +Boy Woodburn came leading the winner through the cheering crowd.</p> +<p> +It was Old Mat's horse, Old Mat's race; and they had all got a bit on. +They were pleased with themselves, pleased with the horse, pleased with +the jockey, who, perched up aloft on the great sweating bay, his hands +still mechanically at work, his little dark face shining, chaffed his +chaffers in the voice of a Punchinello.</p> +<p> +"Get off him, Monkey," called a joker; "get off quick afore he falls to +pieces. <i>Do!</i>"</p> +<p> +"Same as you do when I get talkin' to ye!" retorted the little jockey.</p> +<p> +There was a roar of laughter at the expense of the joker, who turned +suddenly nasty.</p> +<p> +"Who said Chukkers?" he cried.</p> +<p> +There was an instant of silence, and then some groans.</p> +<p> +"Not me," replied the little jockey grimly.</p> +<p> +A snigger rippled through the crowd.</p> +<p> +"What you done with your old friend this time, Monkey?" somebody asked. +"Laid him out again lately?"</p> +<p> +"No such luck," the other answered. "He's beat it."</p> +<p> +"Where is he then?"</p> +<p> +The little jockey tossed his head backward.</p> +<p> +"Gone back to God's Own Country to find his birf certificate. No flowers +by request."</p> +<p> +The reference was to the fact that Monkey's old-time enemy, the +vanquished of Cannibal's National fifteen years before, Chukkers, the +greatest of cross-country riders, was an American citizen of uncertain +origin.</p> +<p> +The thrust was received with a fresh outburst from the hilarious crowd. +Monkey Brand's relations with his "old friend" were well known to all.</p> +<p> +The little jockey prepared to dismount.</p> +<p> +Amid a burst of jeers and cheers, he threw his leg over his horse's +withers, slipped to the ground, stripped off the saddle, and limped off +to the weighing machine.</p> +<p> +Old Mat watched him go.</p> +<p> +"On his hoss, on his day," he muttered confidentially to the young man, +"Monkey Brand can show his heels to most of 'em yet."</p> +<p> +"How old is he?" asked the other.</p> +<p> +The old trainer frowned and shook his head mysteriously.</p> +<p> +"You must never ask a jockey his age, no more than a woman," he said. +"He come to me the year I was married, and that's twenty year since come +Michaelmas. And when he come he looked much just the very same as he do +now. Might ha' been any age atween ten and a hundred." He dropped his +voice. "Only way he shows his years—he ain't so fond of fallin' as he +was. And I don't blame him. Round about forty a man begins to get a bit +brittle like."</p> +<p> +He lilted off after his jockey.</p> +<p> +Goosey Gander stood stripped of everything but his bridle, with dark +flanks and lowered head reaching at his bit.</p> +<p> +He was a typical Woodburn horse: a great upstanding bay, full of bone +and quality. But he showed wear. A tube was in his throat, a +leather-boot on each fore-leg, and he was bandaged to the hocks, both of +which showed the serrated lines of the firing iron.</p> +<p> +The girl in front of him pulled his sweating ears. Jim Silver watched +with admiration not untinged with awe her stern young face. She was +entirely unconscious of his gaze, and unaware of the people thronging +her. Her whole spirit was concentrated on the dark and sweating head, +trying to rub against her knees. The crowd pressed in upon her +inconveniently.</p> +<p> +"Give the lady a chance to breathe," cried the young man in his large +and lazy voice.</p> +<p> +The crowd withdrew a little.</p> +<p> +"Say, Guv'nor!—do they call you Tinee?" called one.</p> +<p> +"No; his name's Silver," said another. "They calls you Silver Mug, don't +they, mister?"</p> +<p> +"I believe so," replied the young man, unmoved.</p> +<p> +He was fair game: for he was very big, clearly good-humoured, spick and +span to a fault, and a member of another class.</p> +<p> +They gathered with glee to the baiting.</p> +<p> +"That ain't because of his name, stoopid. That's because he's got a +silver linin' to his mug, ain't it, sir?"</p> +<p> +"Silver!—gold, you mean. 'E breathes gold, that bloke do, and then it +settles on the roof of his jaw. Say, Blokey, open your mug and let's +'ave a peep. I'll put a penny in."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p> +A little red ball was run up an improvised pole. Old Mat was waving.</p> +<p> +"All right," he called.</p> +<p> +The girl led Goosey Gander out of the Paddock into the field at the +back. Women in parti-coloured shawls selling oranges, labourers, +riff-raff, and children were gathered about the merry-go-rounds and +cocoanut-shies, listening apathetically to the hoarse exhortations of +the owners to come and try their luck.</p> +<p> +Silver followed the girl thoughtfully.</p> +<p> +She led the winner past the side-shows toward the group of stately elms +under which the carriages and carts were gathered.</p> +<p> +The ejected stable-lad, Albert Edward, now in his shirt-sleeves, came +toward her, carrying a bucket. The girl rinsed out the old horse's +mouth. Then with swift, accustomed fingers she unlaced the +leather-boots, and set to work to unwind a bandage.</p> +<p> +Jim Silver watched her attentively and then began clumsily on the other +bandage.</p> +<p> +"No," she said. "Like so," and taking it from him unwound it in a trice.</p> +<p> +The old horse shook himself.</p> +<p> +"Go and fetch his rug from the buggy," ordered the girl, addressing +Albert.</p> +<p> +The lad went off.</p> +<p> +The young man took off his long-waisted gray coat and flung it over the +horse's loins, lining down.</p> +<p> +Boy's gray eyes softened. Then she let go the horse's head, took the +coat off swiftly, and as swiftly replaced it, lining upward.</p> +<p> +"Thank-you," she said.</p> +<p> +She glanced over her shoulder.</p> +<p> +"Will you lead him up and down, while I go and fetch his rug?" she said. +"That kid'll be all day."</p> +<p> +"Rather!" replied the young man, with the fervour of a child to whom a +pony has been entrusted for the first time.</p> +<p> +The girl's neat slight blue-serge figure made off for the elms and the +carriages. Her back turned to the young man, the sternness left her +face, and she smiled.</p> +<p> +A blue-and-black sheep-dog, shaggy as a bear, and as big, leashed to the +wheel of the buggy, began to whimper and to whine with furious ecstasy. +The big dog's big soul seemed to burst within him as the Angel of the +Keys drew near. He had no tail to wag, so he wagged his whole body, +putting back his ears, and laughing with his heart as he lifted his +joyous face to his mistress.</p> +<p> +She rested her hand a moment on his head.</p> +<p> +"Billy Bluff," she said. "Steady, you ass!—How can I loose +you?—There!"</p> +<p> +She eased the spring of his leash. He was off with a bound, gambolling +about her like a wave of the sea.</p> +<p> +Albert was messing about the buggy in leisurely fashion.</p> +<p> +"Hurry, Albert!" came the deep voice.</p> +<p> +"Yes, Miss," replied the other, more leisurely than ever.</p> +<p> +"Bring that clothes-brush along and brush Mr. Silver's coat when you've +finished fooling," she said.</p> +<p> +Then she took the rug from the buggy and went back to Goosey Gander.</p> +<p> +The young man in his pink shirt-sleeves, his baggy white breeches, and +polo boots, was walking the old horse gravely up and down, talking to +him.</p> +<p> +His back was to the girl, and she watched him with kind eyes.</p> +<p> +She was thinking how like he and Goosey Gander were: good big uns both, +as her father would say; clean-bred, large-boned, great-hearted, +quiet-mannered. But the man was just coming into his prime, while the +horse was well past his.</p> +<p> +"Hullo, Bill, old boy," said the young man in his quiet voice.</p> +<p> +Billy answered deeply.</p> +<p> +Silver had only come to Putnam's the night before for the first time, +but he and Billy Bluff were friends already. Boy Woodburn noticed it +with swift appreciation. In her young and entirely fallacious judgment +there were few shrewder judges of character than Big Dog Billy.</p> +<p> +She paused a moment, pretending to shift the rug on her arm.</p> +<p> +The group of three before her held her eye and pleased her mind. Her +face was full of beauty as she watched, the spirit peeping shyly forth.</p> +<p> +That horse, that man, that dog, so physically remote from each other, +yet spiritually akin, filled her young heart with the same sense of +satisfaction as did her familiar and well-beloved Downs. She felt the +goodness of them and rejoiced in it. All three were sound in body and in +spirit, honest, healthy, and therefore happy as the good red earth from +which they came.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a><h4>CHAPTER IV<br /> +<span class="smcap">The Gypsy's Mare</span></h4> + +<p> +Monkey Brand in a long drab coat came limping toward them, his saddle +over his arm.</p> +<p> +"Best put in, Miss," he said. "Mr. Woodburn's comin'."</p> +<p> +The old man indeed was rolling slowly toward them, followed by the +chaffing and expectant crowd to whom he paid no heed. His mouth was +stuffed full of bank-notes, and he was absorbed in calculations made in +a little book, and muttering to himself.</p> +<p> +"We'd best be moving," said the girl to her companion.</p> +<p> +She led the old horse away before the oncoming crowd.</p> +<p> +Silver followed, with grave amusement in his face. He did not know +whether he dared to laugh or not, and was too much afraid to try. The +girl was aware of his embarrassment and became shy in her turn.</p> +<p> +She led the old horse up to the buggy.</p> +<p> +This was the tit-bit of the meeting, the last and by far the greatest +event. Everybody always waited for it. For was it not the Grand Finale +of the Jumping Season?</p> +<p> +Monkey Brand stuffed his saddle away in the buggy, and pulled the +harness out from beneath the seat. Then he and Albert began to harness +Goosey Gander, while Boy stood at the old horse's head.</p> +<p> +The crowd gathered round and began to chaff.</p> +<p> +"Say, Monkey, when you get that 'orse 'ome, shall you 'ave 'im for +supper?—to finish the day like?"</p> +<p> +"They'll never get 'im 'ome. He's goin' to lay down and die when 'e +strikes the road—ain't you, beauty? And I don't blame 'im neether."</p> +<p> +"He ain't though. They won't let him. That old 'orse has got to take the +washin' round when he gets back to Cuckmere this evenin'."</p> +<p> +Goosey Gander was harnessed now.</p> +<p> +Old Mat made slowly toward the buggy.</p> +<p> +The crowd, which had been popping off its feu-de-joie of jokes, steadied +into silence to watch the old man climb to his seat.</p> +<p> +"Someone to see you, Mr. Woodburn," came a voice in the silence.</p> +<p> +"Indeed," panted the old man, his heavy shoulders rising and falling. +"Who's that?"</p> +<p> +There was a movement in the crowd, which parted. At the farther end of +the lane thus made, a flashy young gypsy was seen, with a somnolent old +mare on a halter.</p> +<p> +"There, Mr. Woodburn!" called the gypsy in a hoarse staccato voice. +"There she is—your sort to the tick. Black Death blood. Throw you a +National winner and all."</p> +<p> +The old man cast his shrewd blue eye over the mare.</p> +<p> +She was old and rough as the halter that adorned her drooping head; but +there was no mistaking her quality any more than that her one aim in +life was to go to sleep.</p> +<p> +"Yes, she's a lady all right," said the old man.</p> +<p> +"Black Death mare, sir," reiterated the gypsy. "Out o' Vendetta. Carry +the young lady a dream."</p> +<p> +"Might ha' done twenty year ago," muttered the trainer. He took off his +hat and made a floundering rush at the mare. She never so much as winked +an eye, pursuing her undeviating purpose with a steadfastness worthy of +a greater cause. Old Mat grunted.</p> +<p> +"Look her over, Boy," he said.</p> +<p> +The girl, who loved a bargain dearly as she loved a horse, was already +walking round the mare. Her father was in a complacent mood; and when he +was happy he would do the romantic and foolish things the girl's soul +loved.</p> +<p> +"Like her, Boy?" the old man asked.</p> +<p> +The girl pursued her critical survey, felt the mare's legs, looked into +her mouth, lifted an eye-lid. The crowd, deeply interested, watched in +silence. Utterly absorbed in the work in hand, Boy, as always, was +unaware of them because she was entirely forgetful of herself.</p> +<p> +"Yes," she said simply.</p> +<p> +The old man turned to the gypsy.</p> +<p> +"What ye want?" he asked.</p> +<p> +"She's yours for a tenner, sir."</p> +<p> +He stiffened his lips.</p> +<p> +Boy walked sedately past her father.</p> +<p> +"Pound a leg," she said quietly in his ear.</p> +<p> +"Four pound," said the old man, firmly. "Cash down—and accommodation."</p> +<p> +He rustled the bank-notes in his pocket.</p> +<p> +The gypsy frowned, and appeared to be engaged in a portentous spiritual +struggle. Then the clouds cleared suddenly.</p> +<p> +"Done with you, sir!" he called, and hauled the old mare down the +widening lane through the crowd. She came reluctantly, every inch of her +resenting the necessity for motion.</p> +<p> +Old Mat paid out five sovereigns into the other's outstretched paw.</p> +<p> +"Four sovereigns for the mare—and a half for the halter, and a little +bit o' beer-money."</p> +<p> +The crowd cheered and the gypsy danced a jig.</p> +<p> +"You're a gentleman, Mr. Woodburn," he cried. "Now I'll tell you somefin +for yourself." He drew the old man aside and whispered in his ear, +ending with an emphatic: "S'truth, sir!"</p> +<p> +The trainer grunted sceptically.</p> +<p> +"Now, Boy," he said. "There she is. Take charge o' your cripple."</p> +<p> +The girl, her face alight with pleasure, took the halter of the lagging +mare.</p> +<p> +Old Mat gathered the reins and mounted to his seat. Monkey Brand took +his place at his master's side. Boy got up behind, the halter in her +hand.</p> +<p> +The trainer raised his whip.</p> +<p> +The buggy bumped over the grass, the old mare trailing behind with +outstretched neck. The girl folded her arms and looked down her nose +like a footman.</p> +<p> +Silver, following on his pony, saw her face and chuckled suddenly.</p> +<p> +This stern girl had a sense of humour after all.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p> +Then the chaff became a cheer; and the Polefax Meeting was over.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a><h4>CHAPTER V<br /> +<span class="smcap">Across the Downs</span></h4> + +<p> +What Old Mat called his little bit of theayter—which his irreverent +daughter was wont to describe with characteristic brutality as sheer +swank—was quickly over.</p> +<p> +As soon as the buggy left the fields and bumped down into the pack-horse +track which led up the shoulder of the Downs, Old Mat halted. Boy +slipped down from her seat, and the old man and Monkey Brand followed +more leisurely. Silver dismounted, too.</p> +<p> +The little cavalcade wound slowly up the hill, skirting the steep side +of a coombe that gathered the dusk in its huge green bowl until it +brimmed with mystery.</p> +<p> +Boy looked down into it and longed, as often before, that she had wings +on which to float upon that soft and undulating sea of shadow.</p> +<p> +Not seldom this desire was so strong upon her that she felt a certainty +she <i>had</i> wings, wings within her which she could not spread, but of the +existence of which this insurgent desire was the irrefragable witness.</p> +<p> +The sides of the coombe were hung with beeches sheathed now in tenderest +green; while from out of the emptiness beneath, the insistent and +melancholy cry of lambs seemed to make the shadows quiver and touched a +chord of wistfulness in the heart of the girl.</p> +<p> +The sun was already sinking behind the smooth ramparts of the hills and +rose to meet them as they climbed, peering at them over the summit +through the shaggy eyebrow of the gorse.</p> +<p> +Boy walked beside the old mare, throwing every now and then swift and +surreptitious glances at her new treasure. She was fearful lest the +young man leading his pony on the foot-track at her side should think +her a baby and over-keen.</p> +<p> +Once only he spoke to her, and that clearly with the difficulty of the +shy.</p> +<p> +"What shall you cuc-call her?" he asked.</p> +<p> +"I don't know," she answered.</p> +<p> +She longed to help him, but when the chance came she could only snub +him. That was always the way with Boy, when she was in touch with +somebody she liked.</p> +<p> +Old Mat came unconsciously to the rescue.</p> +<p> +"Why, Four Pound, o' course," he panted, labouring up the hill, his +hands on his knees.</p> +<p> +"Is she Black Death blood?" asked the young man.</p> +<p> +"Yes, she's Black Death all right," answered the old man. "That's the +old Pocahontas strain. Jumpers to a gee. You know. Look at them gray +hairs at the root of her tail—and that lazy, too! sluttin' along with +her nose out and her tongue a-waggin'. They're all like that, Black +Deaths are. If you was to let off a bomb under her belly, she wouldn't +so much as switch her tail. Couldn't be bothered. Constitutions like +hoxes, too." He paused to pant. "If what that feller said was O.K., why +then she's worth money, too. Only o' course it ain't. Else he wouldn't +ha' said it."</p> +<p> +On the top of the Downs, facing the wind that blew straight from the sun +sinking over Newhaven into the sea, they paused to breathe. Beneath +them stretched the Weald, and the great saucer of Pevensey Bay ringed +about with a line of brown sand fringed with foam. Northward was +Crowborough Beacon, the Ashdown Forest Ridge, and the hills about Battle +Abbey. Southward, and the way of the setting sun, the Downs ran out in +huge spurs, line behind line of them, into the shining splendour of the +sea, to break off abruptly in the white cliffs of the Seven Sisters. The +hills were bare and bleak in their austere yet rounded strength, +stripped of trees, clothed only in resplendent gorse, here a squat +haystack dumped upon a ridge against the sky, there a great patch of +plough let into the green.</p> +<p> +"By Jove!" cried the young man; and the girl thrilled to him because she +felt he loved what was so much to her.</p> +<p> +"Some space," panted the old man, climbing back to his seat, and tucking +the rug around him. "Room to stretch a hoss here; and somethin' for his +windpipe better'n Owlbridge's lung-tonic."</p> +<p> +Boy said nothing but stood breathing deep and with quiet eyes. At her +side was Billy Bluff, his shaggy hair blown back from his forehead and +astrew across his face, lifting his nose as though to sniff the sunset.</p> +<p> +They jogged quietly along the crest of the hills, travelling always +toward the sun, over the ancient Pilgrim's Way that runs from Pevensey, +by the Holy Well in Cow Gap, and the Lamb on the hill at Eastbourne, +past the Star at Alfiriston along the top of the Downs to that cathedral +beyond the Arun, once a chapel of wood, whence St. Wilfrid set out to +take the Gospel from the coast to the heathen dwelling in the dark and +savage Andred's Weald.</p> +<p> +The slope was with them; and Goosey Gander made his own pace, slipping +along with smooth and easy stride.</p> +<p> +They followed the line of the telegraph poles, skirting steep coombes +shrouded at the foot with beech woods, past round-eyed dew-ponds, at +which cloaked shepherds were watering their flocks. Once an encampment +in the gorse caught their eyes. A yellow van, an ancient horse or two +hobbled in the gorse-bushes, a patch of brown tent, and a whiff of blue +smoke rising from an unseen fire, betrayed the nature of the squatters.</p> +<p> +The old man pointed them out with his whip.</p> +<p> +"There they are, the beauties," he said. "Thought they wouldn't be fur. +Rogues and rasqueals, Mr. Silver!" he cried, twiddling his whip, and +raising his voice to a sort of chant. "Rogues and rasqueals on h'every +side, layin' in wait for to take a little bit off you—same as the +Psalmist says. And it's no good talkin' to 'em. None whatebber." He +dropped his voice to the old confidential note. "Pinch the hair off the +back o' your head while you're sleepin', they would. Wonder who they +sneaked <i>her</i> off?"</p> +<p> +He turned his rogue-eye on the young man on the chestnut pony jogging at +his side, winked, and made a movement with his elbow.</p> +<p> +"Course if they was to claim her, I got her off of an old friend o' mine +down in the West Country," he said, raising his voice. "Better still +Ireland as further away. Yes, South of Ireland—a'ter Punchestown. He'd +better be dead, too, my old friend—so he can't tell no tales and deny +no stories." He elaborated his idea with glee, clapping his sides with +his elbows. "Yes, that's about it. I bought her in at the sale of the +effects of an old friend o' mine, South of Ireland—to help his widie. +That's got it. Good idee. Very good idee. Charity <i>and</i> business—what +they like. Micky Mahon, his name was. Died o'—I must have it all pat on +the tongue. What <i>did</i> he die of, Brand? You're an artful little feller, +settin' there so smug and secret like a hen crocodile a-hatchin' h'out +h'its h'egg."</p> +<p> +"Lung-trouble's best, sir," replied the little jockey gravely. "I reck'n +you can't go far with lung-trouble. See, we all dies o' shortness o' +breath in the latter end. That <i>is</i> lung-trouble in a manner o' +speakin'."</p> +<p> +"Lung-trouble's good," said the old man. "Vairy good. You're a good +little lad, Brand. You help me in my hour o' need...."</p> +<p> +"Father!" came the stern voice from the back seat.</p> +<p> +The old man began to flap with his elbows.</p> +<p> +"There she goes, givin' tongue! Is that you, Miss?" he called, in his +half-humorous whimper. "You wasn't meant to hear that. Your ears is +altogether <i>too</i> long—like that young Lollypop hoss o' mine."</p> +<p> +They swung away off the crest of the Downs and began to drop down the +slope into the village of Cuckmere lying beneath them in the valley +among trees.</p> +<p> +The sun dipped into the sea as they turned with a noise of grinding +wheels into the village street. The news of Goosey Gander's victory had +preceded them and they drove slowly through little crowds of cheering +children, between old flint cottages with tiled roofs, and gardens white +with arabis and overspread with fig-trees.</p> +<p> +As they turned a corner, Putnam's lay before them, a Queen Anne +manor-house, homely, solid, snug, with low blue parapeted roof, standing +a little back from the road, and buttressed by barns and +stable-buildings.</p> +<p> +Directly they came in sight of the windows of the farm the old man took +his hat off his shining head, put it on the end of his whip, and began +to twiddle it.</p> +<p> +The signal was instantly answered.</p> +<p> +A handkerchief was waved at a lower window.</p> +<p> +"There's Mar!" Mat said comfortably, easing into a walk. "One thing, she +ain't dead. <i>That's</i> a little bit o' better."</p> +<p> +He gave his plump body a half-turn and began again to whimper over his +shoulder to the occupant of the back seat.</p> +<p> +"You wouldn't get your old dad into trouble, would you then, Boy?—not +by tellin' Mar I done a lot o' things I never dreamed o' doin'. If you +was to say I betted now you'd say what wasn't true, wouldn't you?—and +you've often told me what come to Annie Nyas and Sophia in the Book, +haven't you? A lesson to us all that was—to be took to 'eart, as the +sayin' is. All I done was just this: An old friend come up to me—had a +drop in him, must have had!—and he says: 'Your old hoss won't win, +Mat,' he says, very insultifyin'. 'My old hoss <i>will</i> win then,' I +answers, polite as you please. 'De we,' I says, mindful o' Mar. 'Will +you back your opinion?' says he, sneery. 'No,' I says, very firm. 'No; I +never bets—cause o' you know.' 'Oh, yes,' he says, 'I know you—and I +know your master,' meaning Mar." He swung round and addressed the young +man riding on his right. "That's 'ow they go on at me all the time, Mr. +Silver," he whined. "Persecute me somethin' shockin' because o' me +religion—for all the world as if I could help it."</p> +<p> +"It's not your religion," came the deep voice from the back seat. "It's +mother's."</p> +<p> +"What's it matter whose religion it is if they martyrizes you for it at +the stake?" wheezed the old man. He took up his tale anew. "So as I was +sayin' he says to me, Sam Buckland do: 'Man to man,' he says, 'I respeck +you for stickin' to principles what you don't 'old, Mat,' he says. 'And +far be it from me to undermine a man's faith what he learned acrost his +mother's knee,' he says. 'But see here,' he says; 'if that 'ole +rockin'-hoss o' yours gets round the course I'll give you fi' pun for +yourself; if a miracle happens and he gets a place I'll make it a +tenner; and if all the other hosses takes and lays down and dies so as +he wins outright, it's a pony to you.' And I says to him: 'As to my +champion, Mr. Buckland,' I says, 'you're jealous of him and I don't +blame you, seein' as he can roll faster nor any hoss o' yours can +gallip. But if he <i>don't</i> win,' I says, 'I'll give you fi' pun to buy +yourself some manners with, fi' pun for your missus to get her a better +'usband, and fi' pun for that bald-faced, ewe-knecked, calf-kneed son of +a laughin' jack-ass who calls you dad.' That's all that happened' Boy. +That's not bettin', is it? That's fair give-and-take. Quite a different +thing entirely. Ask the clergee."</p> +<p> +They pulled up in the road.</p> +<p> +Mrs. Woodburn came slowly down the steps of the old manor-house to meet +them.</p> +<p> +She was a tall woman, gray, rather gaunt, and perhaps twenty years +younger than her husband. She wore a plain black dress, and there was +about her a wonderful atmosphere of peace and dignity.</p> +<p> +Nobody but Mat would have dreamed of calling such a woman Mar, and any +other woman of the type but Patience Longstaffe would have resented the +name.</p> +<p> +"I'm glad you won, dad," she said in a voice deep as her daughter's, but +harsher, as though from wear. "And I hope you won fair."</p> +<p> +The old man, who had alighted, was passing the reins through the rings +of the saddle.</p> +<p> +"There she goes!" he croaked in his protesting voice. "Might just as +well be on the crook—straight, I might, for all the credit I gets."</p> +<p> +Mrs. Woodburn kissed him and the girl, and ran a practised eye and hand +down Goosey Gander's fore-legs.</p> +<p> +His wife might be a Puritan, but Mat was the first to admit that there +was little about a horse he could teach her.</p> +<p> +"He got round all right, then, Brand?" she said.</p> +<p> +"Oh, yes, 'm," chirruped the little jockey. "It was light goin', so his +pipe didn't trouble him; and he fenced like he was in Paridise. I lay +off a bit till they was all bust, then I come right away through 'em and +spread-eagled the lot."</p> +<p> +The woman's hand, strong yet tender, passed down the old horse's flank.</p> +<p> +"I see you waled him," she said.</p> +<p> +"Well, 'm, just a couple of taps like—to settle it," deprecated the +other. "Three fences from home I see I'd got the measure of 'em, and +come away from the ruck with a rattle. Then I easied him home."</p> +<p> +"You'd no call to take up your whip, Brand," grumbled the old man. "He'd +ha' won without that, and you'd a plenty in hand."</p> +<p> +"<i>I</i> told him to come through and finish it if he got a chance," +interposed Boy from the back.</p> +<p> +The old man turned away with a grunt.</p> +<p> +"Oh, <i>you</i> told him, did you? Course my instructions goes for nothin' +if <i>you</i> told him. There's <i>two</i> masters in my stable, Mr. Silver, as +you see—and neither of 'em's me."</p> +<p> +"Mother!" called the girl.</p> +<p> +Mrs. Woodburn went round and looked at the old mare.</p> +<p> +"What d'you think of her?" asked Boy, unable to disguise her keenness.</p> +<p> +"You've bought two," said the mother slowly.</p> +<p> +"D'you think so?" cried the girl.</p> +<p> +"Sure," muttered the old man. "One thing, if they claim her, they can't +claim her foal, too." He grunted in his wife's ear: "Chap said she's in +foal to Berserker. Likely tale, ain't it? Howsoebber, if 'tain't true, +don't make no matter; if 'tis, all the better. Anyways, she might throw +a winner, plea' Gob in his goodness."</p> +<p> +Mrs. Woodburn held up a warning finger at him.</p> +<p> +"Now, dad!" she said; then turned to her daughter.</p> +<p> +"Turn her out in the Paddock Close for the present," she said. "And send +one of the lads for Mr. Silver's pony."</p> +<p> +The girl led the old mare away into the yard. Jim Silver followed +slowly.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a><h4>CHAPTER VI<br /> + +<span class="smcap">Putnam's</span></h4> + +<p> +In the days when Putnam's had been a farm, the yard had always been deep +in dung and litter. Now it was cobbled and clean as a kitchen floor. All +round it on three sides were old barns and cattle-sheds, transformed +into rough but roomy loose-boxes. And the most casual observer could not +have mistaken the nature of the place. For a clock stood above the main +building; a chestnut crib-biter, looking out into the yard, had the top +of his half door between his teeth and was wind-sucking with arched +neck; while a flock of fan-tails strutted to and fro, flirting and +foraging.</p> +<p> +A tortoise-shell cat crossed the yard leisurely. The cat was known as +Maudie. But it was a matter of dispute amongst those interested in the +question whether she derived her name from Maud Allan, the dancer, or +from Mordecai, the Jew. The dispute hung round the question whether Old +Mat had christened her or Ma. If she owed her name to Old Mat, then it +was clear that it came from the dancer; if to Ma, then from the Old +Testament.</p> +<p> +Billy Bluff, entering the yard in an expectant bustle, made for Maudie +with a joyful flourish. Maudie arched her back, spat, and passed on +gingerly. Whenever the pair met, and that was frequently, they went +through the same pantomime, to the satisfaction of one of them at +least.</p> +<p> +The bob-tail next made a dash at the fan-tails. These rose with a mighty +splashing of wings, fluttered a yard above his head, and settled again +unconcernedly.</p> +<p> +Albert, who, true to his promise, had somehow got home before the rest +of the party, was standing outside the door of the saddle-room. The +other lads were gathered round him in respectful silence. Albert was +busy, but he was not engaged as usual in telling his admirers tall +stories of the Meeting and his own prowess in getting the blind side of +mugs and dandy duds. He had a bit of chalk in his hand and was drawing +on the door. There was no doubt the lad could draw. Monkey Brand indeed +asserted that there were few things Albert Eddud could not do if he +tried—"and the wusser the thing the better he does it." Now he was +drawing the head of a man with a huge and bulbous nose. Boy caught a +glimpse of it as she entered the yard, and recognised it in a flash. It +was the face of the hero of a comic paper the lads took in: a paper of +which she disapproved, although with her instinctive sense for +government, she did not think it wise to suppress it. <i>Ally Sloper</i> its +name; its subject, ladies in bathing costume.</p> +<p> +Albert, rapt in his labour, was working with the fury of the artist. He +finished with a flourish. The lads crowded round to look. Foremost +amongst them were Jerry, a youth with corrugated brow and profoundly +sagacious air; and Stanley, dark and sleek and heavy of face, in whom +sloth and sleep and insolence seemed to war. Jerry clearly should have +been a philosopher, and Stanley an emperor.</p> +<p> +Monkey Brand was in the habit of referring, not without bitterness, to +the pair and Albert as "them three." He believed them capable of +anything, and was not far out in his belief. Jerry, the thinker, +planned the crimes; Albert, the man of action, committed them; and +Stanley, the stupid, bore the blame and paid the price. When they were +not at each other's throats, the three hung very close together.</p> +<p> +Albert Edward now thrust his friends aside.</p> +<p> +"Half a mo'!" he cried, and scrawled in dashing hand beneath the +portrait the legend:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;"><i>Ally Slo's</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;"><i>Got a nose</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;"><i>Like our Jose'.</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>S.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Albert stood back with folded arms to admire his masterpiece. The beauty +of it over-awed his naturally irreverent spirit.</p> + +<p>"'Ush!" he said.</p> + +<p>But a rude voice burst in on his silent rapture.</p> + +<p>"Albert!" it called peremptorily.</p> + +<p>The artist turned round to see Boy leading the old mare into the yard.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Miss."</p> + +<p>"Take Mr. Silver's pony."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Miss."</p> + +<p>"Jerry, put Billy Bluff on the chain. Stanley, put that chestnut's +muzzle on."</p> + +<p>She led the old mare to the gate that opened on the Paddock Close.</p> + +<p>Silver followed her, and looking back saw Monkey Brand limp into the +yard from the road, leading Goosey Gander.</p> + +<p>Mat was on the other side of the old horse, walking thoughtfully, his +whip over his shoulder, and muttering to himself, as was his way.</p> + +<p>Goosey Gander's head was framed fittingly between master and man. Now he +rubbed it against one and now against the other. They led him to the +water-trough and stood over him as he drank with nibbling lips, shaking +the oppressive collar from his shoulders. Jim Silver at the gate watched +the little group with quiet content. The three seemed so perfectly at +home together that between them was no need for words.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Monkey Brand was a cockney.</p> + +<p>He had been born in the River Ward of Hammersmith in that blind alley +known to the police and the inhabitants as Tiger Bay.</p> + +<p>His father's ice-cream business never had any fascination for the lad; +but from the first his spirit drew him to the long-eared shaggy mokes of +certain of the neighbours. While the other urchins from the River Ward +spent their days in and out of the river dodging the coppers, at the +draw-docks on Chiswick Mall, or down by the coal-wharves under the +bridge, Monkey's happiest hours were passed leading a coster's cart +laden with green stuff up and down the alleys. When possible he slept +with Mary, the donkey he had in charge. She was fond of him, too; and +the Joes, who owned her, found that the long-eared lady, when in one of +her stubborn moods, would give to the boy's persuasions what she refused +to the big stick.</p> + +<p>To the Joes Monkey proved himself invaluable.</p> + +<p>He was industrious and reliable; and he had his reward when young Joe +jaunted across London for fish at Billingsgate or greens at Covent +Garden and took the lad with him.</p> + +<p>The great day of the boy's life came when the Joes took him to Epsom for +the Derby week.</p> + +<p>Old Joe, young Joe's missus, and the kids, stowed away in the body of +the cart; while young Joe balanced on one shaft and Monkey on the other. +The party crossed Barnes Common in the small hours of the Monday +morning, and dossed on Banstead Downs that night. Next day they joined +the great stream of traffic rolling out of London Epsomward. Young Joe, +whose strength lay in his powers of sympathetic intuition, let Monkey +drive. And the urchin took his place with pride in that vast stream of +char-à-bancs, 'buses, hansoms, and drags rolling southward; and no +four-in-hand coachman of them all held up his hand to stay the following +traffic, or twiddled his whip with lordlier dignity than the dark lad +who sat on the shaft and drove Mary up the hill on to the course.</p> + +<p>There for the first time young Monkey saw thoroughbred horses. They were +a revelation to the lad. He stood and gaped at their beauty.</p> + +<p>"Don't 'alf shine neever!" he gasped. "I reck'n our Mary couldn't 'old +'em."</p> + +<p>At the end of the week the Joes returned to Tiger Bay without their +coachman.</p> + +<p>"Where's my Monkey then?" cried his mother.</p> + +<p>"Stayed along o' the 'orses," young Joe answered, unharnessing.</p> + +<p>Indeed there was but one walk in life for which the boy was fitted; and +the fates had guided him into it young.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was when he was nineteen that Mat Woodburn found him out.</p> + +<p>Monkey had been left at the post in a steeplechase. Old Mat didn't +follow the race. Instead he watched the struggle between the lad and the +young horse he was riding. Monkey gave a masterly exhibition of patience +and tact; and Mat, then in his prime and always on the look-out for +riding talent, watched it with grunts of pleasure. Monkey won the battle +and went sailing after the field he could not hope to catch, cantering +in long after the other horses had got home and gone to bed, as his +indignant owner expressed it.</p> + +<p>"Fancy turn!" he said. "Very pretty at Islington. You don't ride for me +no more."</p> + +<p>"Very good, sir," said Monkey, quite unperturbed.</p> + +<p>As he left the dressing-room Mat met him.</p> + +<p>"Lost your job, ain't you?" he said. "Care to come to me? I'm Mat +Woodburn."</p> + +<p>Monkey grinned.</p> + +<p>"I know you, sir," he said. "Yes, sir. Thank you. I'm there."</p> + +<p>Thus began that curious partnership between the two men which had +endured twenty-five years.</p> + +<p>Always master and man, the two had been singularly intimate from the +start, and increasingly so. Both had that elemental quality, somewhat +remote from civilization and its standards, which you find amongst those +who consort greatly with horses and cattle. Both were simple and +astonishingly shrewd. They loved a horse and understood him as did few: +they loved a rogue and were the match for most.</p> + +<p>Both had a wide knowledge of human nature, especially on its seamy side, +based on a profound experience of life.</p> + +<p>Monkey Brand had never been quite in the front rank of cross-country +riders. At no time had he emerged from the position of head-lad, nor +apparently had he wished to do so. It may be that he lacked ambition, or +was aware of his limitations. For his critics said that, consummate +horseman though he was, he lacked the strength to hold his own +consistently in the first flight. Moreover, just at the one period of +his career when it had seemed to the knowing that he might soar, the +brilliant Chukkers, then but a lad, had crossed the Atlantic in the +train of Ikey Aaronsohnn—to aid the cosmopolitan banker to achieve the +end which was to become his consuming life-passion; and in a brief while +had eclipsed absolutely and forever all his professional rivals.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII<br /> + +<span class="smcap">Ally Sloper</span></h4> + + +<p>Silver opened the gate into the Paddock Close. Boy passed through, +leading the old mare.</p> + +<p>"Shall I take her?" asked the young man.</p> + +<p>"No, thank you," she answered.</p> + +<p>In the depths of her eyes there lurked a fugitive twinkle. So far the +intercourse between herself and Mr. Silver had consisted in his offering +to do things for her and in her refusing his offers.</p> + +<p>The Paddock Close stretched away before the girl in the evening light. +On the hill half-a-dozen young horses stampeded in the dusk.</p> + +<p>An early swift screeched and swept above her. A great white owl swooped +out of the wood and waved away up the hillside, hovering over the gorse. +Under the hedge a scattered troop of children were coming down the slope +along the path that led past the little old church among the sycamores.</p> + +<p>Boy led the mare up the hillside, her eyes on the flowing green of the +hill. The young man followed in her wake, lazy almost as the old mare, +who trailed reluctantly behind with clicking shoes. The dreams seemed to +have possessed him, too. He did not speak; his eyes were downward; but +he was aware all the time of that slight, slow-moving figure walking +just in front of him.</p> + +<p>Then something seemed to disturb the stillness and ruffle his brooding +mind. It was a vague disease as of a coming sickness, and little more. +He emerged from the land of quiet and looked about him, like a stag +disturbed by a stalker while grazing.</p> + +<p>A man was blundering down the hillside toward them, an easel on his +shoulder.</p> + +<p>As he came closer his face seemed strangely familiar to the young man. +Where had he seen it? Then he recollected in a flash. It was the face +Albert had drawn in caricature on the stable-door—the face of Ally +Sloper.</p> + +<p>Silver found himself wondering whether the owner of the face was aware +of his likeness, crude indeed though real, of his great protagonist.</p> + +<p>The fellow was incredibly slovenly. His hair was reddish and bushy about +the jaw, and but for his eyes you might have mistaken him for a +commonplace tramp. Those eyes held you. They were sensitive, suffering, +terrible with the terror of a baffled spirit seeking escape and finding +none. In that coarse and bloated face they seemed pitifully out of place +and crying continually to be released. Indeed, there was something +volcanic about the man, as of lava on the boil and ready at any moment +to pour forth in destructive torrents. And surely there had been +eruptions in the past with fatal consequences.</p> + +<p>Now he waddled toward them with an unsavoury grin.</p> + +<p>"What luck?" he called, in a somewhat honied voice.</p> + +<p>"We won," replied Boy briefly.</p> + +<p>She slipped the halter over the head of the old mare, who, too lazy to +remove herself, began to graze where she stood.</p> + +<p>The artist stood above the girl, showing his broken and dirty teeth, his +eyes devouring her.</p> + +<p>Silver resented the familiarity of his gaze.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Silver, this is Mr. Joses," said the girl.</p> + +<p>The difference between the two men amused her: the one clean, keen, +beautifully appointed, like a horse got up for a show, the other shaggy +and sloppy as a farmyard beast.</p> + +<p>"Very pleased to make your acquaintance, sir, I'm sure," grinned the +artist, bowing elaborately.</p> + +<p>The other responded coldly.</p> + +<p>Joses had not made a favourable impression on the young man. Boy saw +that at once; and it was not difficult to see. For Silver showed his +likes and dislikes much as Billy Bluff did.</p> + +<p>The girl wished with all her heart that she was standing behind him that +she might see if the hair on the back of his neck had risen.</p> + +<p>A spirit of mischief overcame her.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Joses'll paint your horses for you," she said demurely.</p> + +<p>"Delighted, I'm sure," laughed the artist.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said the young man, with a brevity the girl herself could +not have surpassed. His shyness had left him, and with it his tendency +to stammer.</p> + +<p>Boy felt herself snubbed, and was nettled accordingly.</p> + +<p>"I'm going home by the wood," she said.</p> + +<p>"I'll come with you," said the artist.</p> + +<p>The two moved away down the hill together toward the wood that thrust +like a spear into the heart of the Paddock Close.</p> + +<p>Silver watched them with steady eyes. As usual he had been left. That +swift and slimy artist-chap had chipped in while he was thinking what +he should do.</p> + +<p>Silver hated artists—not as the result of experience, for he had never +met one in the flesh before, but from instinct, conviction, and +knowledge of the race acquired from books. Artists and poets: they were +all alike—dirty beggars, all manners and no morals, who could talk the +hind-leg off a she-ass.</p> + +<p>And Silver, being dumb himself and very human, hated men who were +articulate.</p> + +<p>He watched the pair walking away from him down the hillside. An +ill-matched couple they seemed to him: the slight, strenuous girl, her +plait of hair like a spear of gold between her shoulders, her slim black +legs, and air of a cold flame; and that loose, fat thing who gave the +young man the impression of a suet pudding that had taken to drink.</p> + +<p>The beast seemed disgustingly fatherly, too, rubbing shoulders with the +girl, and fawning on her.</p> + +<p>Silver sat down on a log and took out the cigarette-case, which was his +habitual comforter.</p> + +<p>The old mare grazed beside him in the dusk, and he began to laugh as he +looked at her. Her laziness tickled and appealed to him. There was +something great about it. She was indolent as was Nature, and for the +same reason—that she was aware of immense reserves of power on which +she could fall back at any moment.</p> + +<p>A rabbit came out of the gorse to feed near by. The owl whooped and +swooped and hovered behind her. The sea wind, fresh and crisp, came +blowing up the valley; and the young stock, bursting with the ecstasy of +life, thundered by in the dusk with downward heads and arched backs and +far-flung heels.</p> + +<p>Silver sat and smoked.</p> + +<p>There was a funny feeling at his heart.</p> + +<p>Some vast, deep, silent-running river of Life, of whose presence within +him he had only become aware within the last few hours, had been +thwarted for the moment, thrust back upon itself, and was tugging and +tuzzling within him as it sought to pursue its majestic way toward the +Open Sea.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII<br /> + +<span class="smcap">The Great Beast</span></h4> + + +<p>Joses had been haunting the village off and on for some time past.</p> + +<p>Boy Woodburn knew nothing of him except that Monkey Brand disliked him.</p> + +<p>Herself she had been given no chance of forming an opinion till lately, +when Joses had asked permission of her father to paint some of the +horses. Old Mat had given leave, and Joses had gained the entrée to the +stables. He had made the most of his chance, haunting the yard, dogged +by Monkey Brand, who resented his presence, watched him jealously, and +made things as uncomfortable and precarious for the artist as he could. +Joses, to do him justice, stuck to his self-imposed task with +astonishing pertinacity in spite of opposition. He did not give up +indeed until Flaminetta, a lengthy mare with an astonishing reach, +suddenly exploded without warning and missed his head with a steel-shod +heel by a short foot.</p> + +<p>Joses tumbled backward off his stool and crawled out of danger on his +hands and knees with astonishing alacrity for so gross a man.</p> + +<p>Monkey Brand, an interested witness of the catastrophe, came limping up +full of the tenderest solicitude.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my, Mr. Joses!—my!" he cried. "I never knew her to do that afore. +<i>Ah, yer! what ye up to?</i>"</p> + +<p>Joses, still on his hands and knees, looked up at the little jockey, his +eyes aghast with anger and fear.</p> + +<p>"Ginger!" he snorted. "You put it there."</p> + +<p>Monkey Brand eyed him with bland interest.</p> + +<p>"You know a wunnerful deal about 'orses for a hartist, Mr. Joses," he +remarked, not troubling to deny the soft impeachment.</p> + +<p>Joses got to his feet and began to talk volubly.</p> + +<p>Monkey Brand listened in respectful silence, waving to the lads to keep +in the background.</p> + +<p>When the orator had finished, the little jockey went in to report to Old +Mat.</p> + +<p>"He knows altogether too much that Mr. Joses do," he ended.</p> + +<p>The trainer nodded.</p> + +<p>"I guessed as much," he said. "I'll make inquiries."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Two days later Old Mat called his head-lad into the office. He was in +his socks and shut the door with precautions.</p> + +<p>Mystery was the breath of life to both men, who were at heart but +children.</p> + +<p>"Seen Joses lately?" began the old man cautiously.</p> + +<p>"Not since then, sir," the other answered in the same tone.</p> + +<p>Old Mat went to the window and drew down the blind. There was nobody but +Maudie in the yard outside, and no human being within fifty yards. But +such considerations must not come between the principal actors and the +correct ritual for such occasions.</p> + +<p>"I was over at Lewes yesterday," he panted huskily. "I see that tall +inspector chap—him I put on to Flaminetta for the Sefton."</p> + +<p>Monkey was all alert.</p> + +<p>"What did he say, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Not much," muttered the other. "Enough, though."</p> + +<p>Monkey drooped his eyelids and tilted his chin. His face became a +masterpiece of secrecy and cunning.</p> + +<p>Old Mat turned his lips inward.</p> + +<p>"I've warned him off," he said, "you might snout about a bit and rout +out what he <i>is</i> after."</p> + +<p>The other nodded.</p> + +<p>"Monkey's the man, sir," he said, and stole away on tip-toe.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>That evening the old trainer, driving through the village, came on the +discomfited artist and drew up to have a word with him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" began the old man in his sympathetic +wheeze. "This <i>is</i> a bad job to be sure, Mr. Joses. So that long mare o' +mine had a shot at your pore brain-box. When I heard, I wep' a tear, I +did reelly." He shook a sorrowful head. "You mustn't come no more, +though, Mr. Joses, you mustn't. If anything was to 'appen to you in my +place I should never forgive meself. 'Tain't so much the compensation to +your widows and such. It's <i>here</i>"—he thumped his heart—"I'd feel it."</p> + +<p>Joses began to make excuse, but the old man refused to be convinced.</p> + +<p>"Rogues and rasqueals, Mr. Joses," he cried. "Layin' pitchforks for yer +feet—same as the Psalmist says. Hosses is much the very same as men. +Kilted cattle, as the sayin' is. Once they turn agin' you your number's +up. And they got <i>somefin'</i> agin' you. No fault o' yours, I know—godly +genelman like you. But where it is <i>there</i> it is!" He sat in his buggy +and wiped his dewy eye. "And there's the dorg, Mr. Joses. Big dorg, +too!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Joses, ejected from Putnam's, as Adam had been from Paradise, might be +the loser; but Art certainly was not.</p> + +<p>For he painted abominably.</p> + +<p>Even the lads jeered at his efforts, while Old Mat said:</p> + +<p>"I reck'n my old pony could do better than that, if I filled her tail +with paint and she sat on it."</p> + +<p>But Joses was not to be beaten so easily. Meeting Boy Woodburn in the +village street, he asked her if he might paint Billy Bluff.</p> + +<p>The girl, knowing Billy's views on Mr. Joses, excused herself and her +dog.</p> + +<p>Joses walked down the village street with her, expostulating.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Haggard, the vicar's wife, an austere woman, with a jealously +guardian eye for all the village maidens, met the pair and eyed the girl +severely.</p> + +<p>Later in the day she came on Boy alone and stopped her.</p> + +<p>"Do you know that man, Joyce?" she asked.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Haggard was the one person in the world who called Boy by her +Christian name. And she did it, as she did everything else, on +principle.</p> + +<p>"Not really," answered Boy.</p> + +<p>"I don't like him," said Mrs. Haggard.</p> + +<p>"Neither do I," answered the girl.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad to hear it," said the other. "He's <i>not</i> a nice man."</p> + +<p>That evening Mrs. Haggard went to see Mrs. Woodburn and gave the +trainer's wife some of her reasons—and they were good reasons, +too—for thinking Mr. Joses <i>not</i> a nice man.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Woodburn, who was in the judgment of the vicar's wife a good but +curious woman, showed herself distressingly undistressed.</p> + +<p>"Boy can look after herself, I guess," she said, a thought grimly.</p> + +<p>She reported later to Mat what Mrs. Haggard had told her and what she +had replied to Mrs. Haggard.</p> + +<p>Old Mat agreed.</p> + +<p>"She can bite all right," he said. "Trust Boy."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>And Boy, as she walked down the hillside on leaving Mr. Silver and the +old mare, felt like biting.</p> + +<p>She was annoyed with Mr. Silver, annoyed with Joses, and, above all, +annoyed with herself.</p> + +<p>She had been mischievous, and now she was being punished for it.</p> + +<p>She did not like Joses; and she <i>did</i> like being alone in the wood at +dusk.</p> + +<p>Her companion walked too close to her; he laughed too much; she was +aware of that haunted and haunting eye of his rolling at her +continually; and he smelt of alcohol.</p> + +<p>Also he would talk.</p> + +<p>"That's Silver, is it?" he said familiarly, as they walked down the +hill.</p> + +<p>"That's <i>Mr.</i> Silver," she retorted.</p> + +<p>His eye sought hers, questioning; but found nothing save a proud, cold +face.</p> + +<p>"Your dadda's training for him, isn't he?" continued the fat man.</p> + +<p>Her dadda!</p> + +<p>The cheek of it!</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"He's a Croesus, isn't he?"</p> + +<p>"He's <i>not</i> a greaser," with warmth.</p> + +<p>Joses laughed his unpleasant laughter.</p> + +<p>"A Croesus, I said. Rolling. He's the Bank of Brazil and Uruguay."</p> + +<p>"I don't know," replied the girl. "I haven't asked."</p> + +<p>They had reached the stile into the wood.</p> + +<p>"Good-night," she said.</p> + +<p>"I'll see you through the wood," the other answered.</p> + +<p>A moment she hesitated. Should she after all go back by the field? If +she did he would think she was afraid. And she was not, as she would +show him. But she wished that Billy Bluff was with her. Reluctantly at +length she climbed the stile and walked through the dusk. He shambled at +her side.</p> + +<p>"Begun to bathe yet?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"You let me know when you begin, and I'll come and paint you on the +rocks."</p> + +<p>Her eyes flashed up at his.</p> + +<p>"You won't!" she said fiercely.</p> + +<p>He edged in upon her, laughing sleekly.</p> + +<p>"Saucy, is it?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Keep off!" she cried.</p> + +<p>"Wants taming, does it?"</p> + +<p>He wound his arm about her.</p> + +<p>"Let me go!"</p> + +<p>She kicked his shins with her square-toed shoes.</p> + +<p>She kicked hard and hurt him.</p> + +<p>"You little devil!" he snorted.</p> + +<p>He pressed her to him, seeming to smother her, like an offensive +blanket.</p> + +<p>His red beard brushed her forehead; his hot face crowded down on hers; +and above all his great red nose protruded above her like an inflamed +banana.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Haggard was fond of saying that Joyce Woodburn was like a wild +animal. And in a way the vicar's wife was right. Self-preservation was +the first law of life for the girl as for every healthy young creature. +And long and intimate contact with horses and dogs had made her swift +and direct in action as were they.</p> + +<p>Now when she felt herself in the clutches of the Beast, and the Greater +Death closing in upon her, she knew as little of doubts and scruples as +any creature of the wilderness.</p> + +<p>That hateful breath was in her nostrils; those covetous eyes were close +to hers; that inflamed and evil nose protruded over her in flaming +invitation.</p> + +<p>She seized it in her gloved hand and wrenched it. The effect was +immediate.</p> + +<p>Joses squealed and clapped both hands to his damaged organ.</p> + +<p>"My——, you——!" he squeaked in the voice of a Punch.</p> + +<p>The girl broke away and ran. She was swift and hard as a greyhound. For +a moment the other stood, leaning over a bed of nettles, snorting and +sniffing as the blood dripped from his nose. Then he pursued. She heard +him thundering behind her. It was like the pursuit of a fawn by a +grizzly. She had only a hundred yards to go to the open; and as she fled +with her head on her shoulder, and her plait flapping, feeling the +strength in her limbs and the courage in her heart, she mocked her +pursuer silently.</p> + +<p>That drink-sodden grampus catch her!</p> + +<p>Her pride came toppling down about her. She tripped, wrenched her +ankle, and knew that she was done.</p> + +<p>Before her was a familiar tree she had often climbed, with a branch some +six feet from the ground.</p> + +<p>She swung herself up.</p> + +<p>The Great Beast came snorting up. He was a dreadful sight. His nose was +bleeding profusely, and the blood had mingled with his beard and +moustache. He had lost his cap, and his head shimmered bald at her feet +beneath wisps of hair.</p> + +<p>He seemed like a great vat full of spirit into which she had tossed a +lighted match.</p> + +<p>"I got you, my beauty!" he panted in smothered and unnatural voice.</p> + +<p>He put his hands on the branch.</p> + +<p>She stamped on them with her heels: and she stamped hard. He swore, and +drew from a leather sheath a wooden-handled knife such as Danish +fisher-folk use.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 15em;">She grasped the branch above her and swung in the air; but she could not +swing forever thus.</span></p> + +<p>"I can wait," said the Great Beast beneath, laughing dreadfully.</p> + +<p>Then there came the sound of a man singing some kind of boating-song.</p> + +<p>The voice was deep and drawing nearer.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">"<i>Then we'll all swing together,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;"><i>Steady from stroke to bow.</i>"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>It was Silver strolling home through the wood.</p> + +<p>Boy heard him; so did Joses, and withdrew into the dusk.</p> + +<p>The girl slipped down from the tree.</p> + +<p>The young man dawdled up, and looked at her with some surprise.</p> + +<p>"Anything up?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Boy. "Up a tree."</p> + +<p>She limped coldly away.</p> + +<p>He followed her.</p> + +<p>"Are you lul-lame?" he asked, shy and anxious.</p> + +<p>"Sprained my off-hind fetlock," she replied.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="BOOK_II" id="BOOK_II"></a>BOOK II<br /> + +THE WATCHER</h4> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX<br /> + +<span class="smcap">Patience Longstaffe</span></h4> + + +<p>Patience Longstaffe was the only child of Preacher Joe, of God-First +Farm, on the way to Lewes; and she was very like her father.</p> + +<p>He had been brought up a Primitive Methodist and had first heard the +Word at Rehoboth, the little red brick place of worship of the sect on +the outskirts of Polefax; but being strong as he was original he had +seceded from the church of his fathers early in life to the Foundation +Methodists and started a little chapel of his own, which bore on its red +side the inscription that gave the popular name to its founder's farm.</p> + +<p>The chapel was hidden away down a lane; but as you drove in to Lewes +along the old coach-road, with the Downs bearing on your left shoulder, +you could not mistake Mr. Longstaffe's farm: for a black barn on the +roadside carried in huge letters the text,</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 15em;"><i>Seek ye first the Kingdom of God.</i></p> + +<p>To the cultivated and academic mind there might be something blatant and +vulgar about so loud an invitation.</p> + +<p>But if its character estranged the carriage-folk, the man who had put it +up had sought the Kingdom himself, and had, if all was true, found it. +Joe Longstaffe was by common consent a Christian man, and not of that +too general kind which excuses its foolishness and fatuity on the ground +of its religion. The Duke's agent disliked him for political reasons, +but he would admit that the dissenter was the best farmer in the +countryside; and the labourers would have added that he was also the +best employer.</p> + +<p>The curious who walked over from Lewes to attend the little chapel in +which he held forth, found nothing remarkable in the big, gaunt man with +the Newgate fringe and clean-shaven lips, who looked like a Scot but was +Sussex born and bred. Joe Longstaffe was not intellectual; his theology +was such that even the Salvation Army shook their heads over it; he had +read nothing but the Bible and Wesley's Diary—and those with pain; he +stuttered and stumbled grotesquely in his speech, and a clerical Oxford +don, who pilgrimaged from Pevensey to hear him, remarked that the only +thing he brought away from the meeting was the phrase, reiterated <i>ad +nauseam</i>,</p> + +<p>"As I was sayin', as you might say."</p> + +<p>But there was one mark-worthy point about the congregation of the +chapel; and the Duke in his shrewd way was the first to note it.</p> + +<p>"Nine out of ten of the people who attend are his own folk—his carters, +shepherds, milk-maids, and the like. And they don't go for what they can +get. Now if I started a chapel—as I'm thinkin' of doin'—d'you think my +people'd come? Yes; if they thought they'd get the sack if they didn't."</p> + +<p>They went, indeed, these humble folk, because they couldn't help it. And +they couldn't help it because there was a man in that chapel who drew +them as surely as the North Pole draws the magnetic needle. And he drew +them because there was Something in him that would not be denied, +Something that called to their tired and thirsting spirits, called and +comforted. It was not possible to say what that Something was; but this +man had it, and it was very rare. And that tall daughter of his, who +rarely smiled, and never grieved, who was always strong, quiet, and +equable, going about her work regular as the seasons, possessed it, too.</p> + +<p>Everybody, indeed, respected Patience Longstaffe, if few loved her.</p> + +<p>She was long past thirty, and people were beginning to say that she had +dedicated herself to virginity, when to the amazement of all it was +announced that she would marry Mat Woodburn, the trainer, twenty years +her senior.</p> + +<p>The Duke, of whose many failings lack of courage was not one, asked her +boldly why she was doing it.</p> + +<p>Her answer was as simple as herself.</p> + +<p>"He's a good man," she said.</p> + +<p>It was a new and somewhat surprising light on the character of Old Mat, +but the Duke accepted it without demur.</p> + +<p>"She's right," he said at the club at Lewes. "Mat's a rogue, but he's +not a wrong 'un." And with his unequalled experience of both classes, +the old peer had every right to speak.</p> + +<p>The vulgar-minded, who make the majority of every class in every +country, thought that Preacher Joe would make trouble, and looked +forward hopefully to a row. For at least a month after the announcement +every drawing-room and public-house in South Sussex was rife with +malicious and sometimes amusing stories. The authors of them were doomed +to disappointment. Not only was Mr. Longstaffe quietly and obviously +happy, but he and his son-in-law, who was but five years his junior, +showed themselves to be unusually good friends.</p> + +<p>And there was no doubt the marriage was a success. The content on +Patience Woodburn's face was evidence enough of that.</p> + +<p>How far the strange and apparently ill-assorted couple affected each +other it was difficult to say. Outwardly, at least, Old Mat remained Old +Mat still, and Patience, although she became Ma Woodburn, went her +strong, still way much as before her marriage. Bred on the land and +loving it, inheriting a wonderful natural way with stock of every kind, +she was from the first her husband's right hand, none the less real +because unsuspected and to a great extent unseen.</p> + +<p>She was never known to attend so much as a point-to-point, but when a +colt wasn't furnishing a-right, or a horse entered for a big event was +not coming on as he should, it was Ma who was sent for and Ma who took +the matter in hand.</p> + +<p>"I've nothing against horses and racing," she would say. "God meant 'em +to race and jump, I reck'n. But I don't think he meant us to bet and +beer over 'em."</p> + +<p>From the first she was a power in the Putnam stable.</p> + +<p>Except in a crisis she interfered little with the lads, but when they +went sick or smashed themselves, she took them into her house and nursed +them as though they were her own. If they were grateful they did not +show it; but in times of stress some spirit whose presence you would +never have suspected made itself suddenly and sweetly apparent.</p> + +<p>The Bible Class for the lads in her husband's employ she had started on +the first Sunday of her reign at Putnam's.</p> + +<p>It was voluntary for those over fifteen; but all the lads attended—"to +oblige."</p> + +<p>That class at the start had been the subject of untold jokes in the +racing world.</p> + +<p>There had even been witticisms about it in the <i>Pink Un</i> and other +sporting papers.</p> + +<p>And when Mat had been asked what he thought of it the story went that he +had answered:</p> + +<p>"I winks at ut," adding, with a twinkle: "I winks at a lot—got to now."</p> + +<p>Ma Woodburn kept the class going for twenty years, until, indeed, her +daughter was old enough to take it over from her.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X<br /> + +<span class="smcap">Her Daughter</span></h4> + + +<p>Boy Woodburn had been born to the apparently incongruous couple some +years after their marriage.</p> + +<p>From the very beginning she had always been Boy. Mrs. Haggard, who +didn't quite approve of the name—and there were many things Mrs. +Haggard didn't quite approve of—once inquired the origin of it.</p> + +<p>"I think it came," answered Mrs. Woodburn.</p> + +<p>And certainly nobody but the vicar's wife ever thought or spoke of the +girl as Joyce. She grew up in Mrs. Haggard's judgment quite uneducated. +That lady, a good but somewhat officious creature, was genuinely +distressed and made many protests.</p> + +<p>The protests were invariably met by Mrs. Woodburn imperturbably as +always.</p> + +<p>"It's how my father was bred," she replied in that plain manner of hers, +so plain indeed that conventional people sometimes complained of it as +rude. "That's good enough for me."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Haggard carried her complaint to her husband, the vicar.</p> + +<p>"There was once a man called Wordsworth, I believe," was all the answer +of that enigmatic creature.</p> + +<p>"You're much of a pair, you and Mrs. Woodburn," snapped his wife as she +left the room.</p> + +<p>"My dear, you flatter me," replied the quiet vicar.</p> + +<p>On the face of it, indeed, Mrs. Haggard had some ground for her anxiety +about the girl.</p> + +<p>Boy from the beginning was bred in the stables, lived in them, loved +them.</p> + +<p>At four she began to ride astride and had never known a side-saddle or +worn a habit all her life. She took to the pigskin as a duck to water; +and at seven, Monkey Brand, then in his riding prime, gave her up.</p> + +<p>"She knows more'n me," he said, half in sorrow, half in pride, as his +erstwhile pupil popped her pony over a Sussex heave-gate.</p> + +<p>"Got wings, she have."</p> + +<p>"Look-a-there!"</p> + +<p>But the girl did not desert her first master. She would sit on a table +in the saddle-room, swinging her legs, and shaking her fair locks as she +listened bright-eyed while Monkey, busy on leather with soap and sponge, +told again the familiar story of Cannibal's National.</p> + +<p>It was on her ninth birthday that, at the conclusion of the oft-told +tale, she put a solemn question:</p> + +<p>"Monkey Brand!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Minie."</p> + +<p>"Do-you-think-I-could-win-with-the National?"</p> + +<p>"No sayin' but you might, Min."</p> + +<p>The child's eyes became steel. She set her lips, and nodded her flaxen +head with fierce determination.</p> + +<p>She never recurred to the matter, or mentioned it to others. But from +that time forth to ride the National winner became her secret ambition, +dwelt upon by day, dreamed over by night, her constant companion in the +saddle, nursed secretly in the heart of her heart, and growing always as +she grew.</p> + +<p>Certainly she was a Centaur if ever child was.</p> + +<p>To the girl indeed her pony was like a dog. She groomed him, fed him, +took him to be shod, and scampered over the wide-strewn Downs on him, +sometimes bare-backed, sometimes on a numnah, hopping on and off him +light as a bird and active as a kitten.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Woodburn let the child go largely her own way.</p> + +<p>"Plenty of liberty to enjoy themselves——" that was the principle she +had found successful in the stockyard and the gardens, and she tried it +on Boy without a tremor.</p> + +<p>Old Joe Longstaffe on his death-bed confirmed the faith of his daughter +in this matter of the education or non-education of the child.</p> + +<p>"Don't meddle," he had said, "God'll grow in her—if you'll let him."</p> + +<p>Patience Woodburn never forgot her father's words and never had cause to +regret that she had followed them.</p> + +<p>The girl, wayward though she might be at times, never gave her mother a +moment's real anxiety. She was straight as a dart, strong as a young +hawk, fearless as a lion, and free as the wind. Her simplicity, her +purity and strength made people afraid of her. In a crowd they always +made way for her: for she was resolute with the almost ruthless +resolution of one whose purpose is sure and conscience clean.</p> + +<p>"You feel," Mr. Haggard once said, "that—she's clear." He waved +vaguely.</p> + +<p>"Pity she's a little heathen," said Mrs. Haggard acridly.</p> + +<p>"She doesn't know her catechism," answered the mild vicar in his +exasperatingly mild way. "Is she any the worse?"</p> + +<p>"Churchman!" snorted his outraged spouse.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Haggard's indictment was unfounded. The girl was fierce and swift, +but she was not a heathen. Mrs. Woodburn had seen to that. Sometimes she +used to take the child to the Children's Services in the little old +church on the edge of the Paddock Close. The girl enjoyed the services, +and she loved Mr. Haggard; but when, during her grand-dad's lifetime, +her mother gave the child her choice between the church and the little +God-First chapel on the way to Lewes, she always chose the latter.</p> + +<p>It may be that her choice was decided by the fact that she drove to the +chapel and walked to the church; it may be that, dearly as she loved the +vicar, she loved her grand-dad more; or it may be that the simplicity of +the chapel, the austerity of the service, and the character of the +congregation, all of a kind, close to earth, humble of heart, and russet +in hue, attending there for no other reason than because they loved it, +appealed to something profound and ineradicable in the spirit of this +child bred amongst the austere and simple hills to which she knew +herself so close.</p> + +<p>Old Mat was fond of saying that the girl's mother could do what she +liked with her, and nobody else could do anything at all.</p> + +<p>"I don't try," he would add, "She puts the terror on to me, that gal +do."</p> + +<p>And the old man was right.</p> + +<p>Different as they were, there was a deep and mysterious sympathy between +mother and daughter. And on that sympathy the mother's power was based.</p> + +<p>Only once was her authority, based as it was upon the spirit, subject to +breaking strain.</p> + +<p>When the girl was fourteen, Mrs. Woodburn decided to send her to the +High School at Lewes. Old Mat shook his head; Mrs. Haggard was +delighted; the girl herself went about with pursed lips and frozen air.</p> + +<p>The vicar, meeting her in the village, stopped her.</p> + +<p>"What d'you think about it, Boy?" he asked in his grave, kind way.</p> + +<p>"I shall go," blurted the girl. "But I shall win all the same."</p> + +<p>"Win what?" asked the vicar.</p> + +<p>"<i>That</i>," said Boy, and flashed on her way.</p> + +<p>When the day of parting came, word was sent round to the stables that +nobody was to be in them at twelve o'clock. At that hour a slight cold +figure crossed the yard swiftly, and entered the stables. The key was +turned in the door. There was no sound from within, except the movement +of the horses, to whom the girl was bidding good-bye.</p> + +<p>Half an hour later the door was opened, and she came out, cold and +frosty as she had entered.</p> + +<p>Monkey Brand, standing in the door of the saddle-room, keeping guard +over the stable-lads lest they should peep and pry, saw her come.</p> + +<p>"She look very grim," he afterward reported to Old Mat.</p> + +<p>"Keeps a stiff lip for a little 'un," whispered a lad peeping from +behind the jockey's shoulder.</p> + +<p>Monkey Brand rounded on him.</p> + +<p>"If you'd 'alf her 'eart," he said, "you might be mistook for a man."</p> + +<p>For three weeks thereafter Putnam's knew the girl no more; and it seemed +that the soul had died out of the place. Monkey Brand moped, and swore +the horses moped, too.</p> + +<p>"When I goes round my 'orses in the mornin' they look at me like so many +bull-oxes askin' to be slaughtered," he said. "Never see sich a sight. +Never!"</p> + +<p>Old Mat for once was glum. His eye lost its twinkle, and his walk its +famous lilt. Mr. Haggard was genuinely sorry for the old man.</p> + +<p>"Miss her, Mr. Woodburn?" he asked, stopping the trainer in the village +street.</p> + +<p>"Miss her!" cried the other. "Mr. Haggard, there's nothing about Hell +you can teach <i>me</i>. I knows it all." He waved a significant hand and +walked away, his heart in his boots.</p> + +<p>Of all the party at Putnam's, Mrs. Woodburn only seemed undisturbed. +Unmoved by the gloom of those about her, glum looks, short answers, and +the atmosphere of a November fog, she went about her business as before.</p> + +<p>Boy's history during those weeks has never been written, and never will +be. What she did, said, thought, and suffered during that time—and what +others did, said, thought, and suffered because of her—none but the +Recording Angel knows. The girl herself never referred to the point; but +were reference made to it, she winced like a foal at the touch of the +branding-iron.</p> + +<p>The episode happily lasted but three weeks.</p> + +<p>At the end of that time, on a Saturday morning, one of the lads had +ridden the Fly-away filly over to Lewes. There in the High Street the +girl swooped on him.</p> + +<p>"Get off!" she ordered.</p> + +<p>The lad, who feared Miss Boy as he did the devil, obeyed with alacrity.</p> + +<p>"Put me up!" Boy ordered.</p> + +<p>Again the lad obeyed, and the next thing he was aware of was the swish +of the filly's thoroughbred tail as she disappeared round the corner of +the street.</p> + +<p>An hour later the girl clattered into the yard at Putnam's, the filly in +a foam.</p> + +<p>Monkey Brand, a chamois leather in his hand, came running out.</p> + +<p>"Miss Boy!" he cried.</p> + +<p>There was an extraordinary air of suppressed excitement about the girl. +She was white-hot and sparkling, yet cold. Indeed, she gave the +impression of a sea of emotions battling beneath a floor of ice.</p> + +<p>"I've got out," she said.</p> + +<p>Panting, but fearless eyed, she went in to face her mother.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Woodburn did not seem surprised.</p> + +<p>She met her daughter's resistance with disarming quiet.</p> + +<p>"Well, Boy," she said, kissing the truant.</p> + +<p>"I'm not going back," panted the girl. Her spirit fluttered furiously as +that of an escaped bird who fears recapture.</p> + +<p>"I'm not going to send you back, my dear," replied the mother.</p> + +<p>The girl put her arms about her mother's neck in a moment of rare +impulse.</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother!" she sighed.</p> + +<p>She did not cry: Boy Woodburn was never known to cry. She did not faint. +She very rarely fainted. But she trembled through and through.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Woodburn paid the necessary fees. The schoolmistress didn't ask to +have the girl back. She admitted that she could make nothing of her.</p> + +<p>"Stuck her toes in," said Old Mat. "And I don't blame her. Can't see Boy +walkin' out two be two, and hand in hand." He shook his head. "Mustn't +put a blood filly in the cart, Mar," he said. "She'll only kick the +caboodlum to pieces."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Woodburn made one more effort to educate her daughter on +conventional lines. She introduced a governess to Putnam's. But after +the girl had taken her mistress for a ride, the poor woman came to Mrs. +Woodburn in tears and asked to leave.</p> + +<p>"I can't teach her the irregular verbs on horseback," she said. "And she +won't learn any other way. Directly I begin on them, she starts to +gallop."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Woodburn accepted the governess's notice, and tried nothing +further.</p> + +<p>"She must go her own way now," she said to Mat.</p> + +<p>"It's the right way, Mar," replied the old man comfortably.</p> + +<p>"I hope so," answered his wife.</p> + +<p>"She can read, and she can write, and she can 'rithmetik,'" continued +the other. "What more d'you want with this 'ere education?" He went out, +shaking his head. "I sha'n't wep no tear," he said. "That I sha'n't, +even if she don't get round them wriggle-regular French worms Mamsel +talks of. Roast beef o' old England for me."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Woodburn announced her decision to her daughter.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, mother," said the girl quietly, and added: "It's no +good—not for me."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Woodburn eyed her daughter.</p> + +<p>"You're a good maid, Boy," she said. "That's the main."</p> + +<p>A month later the girl asked her mother if she might help with the lads' +Bible Class.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Woodburn consented.</p> + +<p>A year later, when the girl was sixteen, Mrs. Woodburn asked her +daughter if she would take the class alone.</p> + +<p>The girl thought it over for a month.</p> + +<p>Then she said yes.</p> + +<p>In the interval she had passed through a spiritual crisis and made a +great renunciation.</p> + +<p>She had resolved to put aside the dream that had dominated her inner +life for seven years.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI<br /> + +<span class="smcap">Brazil Silver</span></h4> + + +<p>Boy Woodburn's calling had thrown her from early youth into contact with +Eton men.</p> + +<p>Indeed, in her experience the world was divided into Eton men—and the +Rest. That was what the girl believed; and it was clearly what the Eton +men believed, too. Boy herself belonged to the Rest, and did not seem to +regret it. The Rest were infinite in number and variety; that was why +she liked them so; for the Infinite can know no limitations. It was not +so with the other division of the Human Race. Eton men, though almost +equally numerous, were limited and stereotyped all to pattern. In the +girl's judgment there were three types of them: the Superior Person, who +treated her as if she was not; the Bad Ass, to whom she was a poor sort +of Joke; and the Incorrigible Creature, who made up to her as if she was +a barmaid.</p> + +<p>That was her theory. And once the girl had formed a theory as the result +of observation, she hated that theory to be upset.</p> + +<p>Mr. Silver displeased her because he blew her hypothesis to smithereens +on his first appearance; for he was an Eton man, yet clearly he did not +come within any of the three known categories.</p> + +<p>At first the girl escaped from her intellectual dilemma by a simple and +purely feminine wile—she refused to believe that he was an Eton man.</p> + +<p>And even when it was proved to her that he had rowed in the Eton boat +she remained unconvinced.</p> + +<p>"Need you be an Eton man to be in the Eton boat?" she inquired warily.</p> + +<p>Mr. Haggard, her informant, thought it probable, but added that he would +inquire.</p> + +<p>It was not till she had known the young man some six months that she +settled the question for herself by asking him point-blank if he had +been at Eton.</p> + +<p>"I believe so," he answered.</p> + +<p>That was his invariable answer to the question when put to him. Now for +once he elaborated on it a little.</p> + +<p>"Mother wanted me to go," he added. "Father didn't."</p> + +<p>"Were you happy there?" asked the girl.</p> + +<p>The other's face lit up with the enthusiasm she liked in him so well.</p> + +<p>"Was I not?" he said.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Albert Edward took all the credit to himself for the name of Silver Mug. +Albert always took all the credit for everything; but really he was by +no means so original as he imagined.</p> + +<p>In fact, Jim Silver had been Silver Mug when Albert was still a ragged +little urchin asking for cigarette pictures from passing toffs outside +Brighton Railway Station.</p> + +<p>A Lower Boy at Eton had originated the name. It was apt, and it stuck.</p> + +<p>Jim Silver in Bromhead's was hugely rich, and he had a great, ugly, +honest face. Friends and enemies called him by the name; and he had a +good few of both. The former loved him for the qualities the latter +hated him for. The cads of the school chaffed surreptitiously about his +birth. They said he was the grandson of an agricultural labourer and the +son of a bank clerk; but only one of them, more caddish or more +courageous than the rest, said so to his face.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't mind if I was," said simple Jim, and was cheered by his +loyal little friends, Lord Amersham and others of the right kidney.</p> + +<p>His father never came to see him when he was at school.</p> + +<p>"I know why," sneered the enemy.</p> + +<p>"Why, then?" flared Jim.</p> + +<p>"He daren't. Give the show away."</p> + +<p>After that the lad gave his enemy a sound hiding, and peace reigned. The +bounders might say he was a bounder, but they had to admit that he could +give and take punishment with the best.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>He left Eton absolutely unspoilt.</p> + +<p>A year before the lad quitted the school his father sent for him.</p> + +<p>"I didn't want you to go to Eton, Jim," he said. "I'm glad now. Do you +want to go on to Oxford?"</p> + +<p>The boy thought; and when his reply came it was honest as himself.</p> + +<p>"All my friends are going," he said. "I should like it for that reason. +But I don't know that I should get much out of it."</p> + +<p>"Go for a year," said his father. "See what you make of it. If you're +getting any good of it, you can go on. If not, we'll see."</p> + +<p>The boy did not leave the room.</p> + +<p>His interviews with his father were rare; and there was a question he +had long wished to ask.</p> + +<p>Now he blurted it out.</p> + +<p>"Am I to go into the Bank, father?"</p> + +<p>The old man blinked at his son over his spectacles, and then shoved back +his chair.</p> + +<p>"What d'you want?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I should like the Army, or to farm," replied the son.</p> + +<p>Mr. Silver put down his paper.</p> + +<p>It was some time before he answered.</p> + +<p>"The Bank's my life," he said at last. "You're my son. You may choose +for yourself." He drummed with his fingers on the table; and Jim left +the room.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>When the half-breeds, as Lord Amersham called them, jeered at Silver as +the son of an agricultural labourer there was a modicum of truth at the +back of the lie.</p> + +<p>The boy came of a long line of yeoman-farmers in Leicestershire, famous +for generations for their stock and their integrity.</p> + +<p>Jim Silver's grandfather was the last of that line. He was a big man and +big farmer, husbanding his wide acres wisely and well, breeding good +stock, enjoying his day's hunting, but not making too much of it, +touching his hat to his landlord, a familiar and imposing figure at all +the Agricultural Shows in the Midlands.</p> + +<p>His only son George was in his father's opinion a sport. Certainly he +was no true Silver: that was obvious from his earliest years. He cared +nothing for a horse, was a shamefully bad judge of a beast, had no +feeling for the fields, never knew the real poetic thrill at the sight +and smell of a yard knee deep in muck, and hated mud and rain.</p> + +<p>"More of a scholar," said his father regretfully. "All for books and +studyin'."</p> + +<p>Mr. Silver, wise as are those who come into contact with Nature at first +hand, did not interfere with his son's queer predilections or attempt to +stay his development on the lines of instinctive preference, aiding the +boy indeed in every way to make the most of himself on the path he had +chosen.</p> + +<p>Thus he sent him to the Grammar School at Leicester. The boy went +joyfully: for he was very modern. The town, the books, the people, the +streets, the hum of business, the opening gates of knowledge, pleased +and contented his insatiable young spirit. The father had the reward of +his daring. George did famously and became in time Captain of the +School. The farmer attended prize-giving, and watched his son march up +to the table time after time amidst the cheers of his school-fellows.</p> + +<p>"George has got the red rosette again, Mr. Silver," smiled the +Headmaster.</p> + +<p>"So I see," replied the farmer. "But the showring's one thing, work's +another." And when pressed to send his son on to a University he +refused.</p> + +<p>"He'll get an exhibition," urged the Headmaster.</p> + +<p>The father was not impressed.</p> + +<p>"Moderation in all things," he said, shaking a shrewd head. "Edication +as well. He's stood out long enough. Time he began to 'arn."</p> + +<p>The Headmaster's arguments were of no avail.</p> + +<p>"I'd got all the schooling I needed by then I was eleven. He's had till +he's eighteen. If it's to be of any good to him it'll be good now," said +Mr. Silver.</p> + +<p>To his surprise and secret pleasure his son backed him. He didn't want +to go to a University.</p> + +<p>"It's not much use unless you're a classic," the boy said. "And I'm a +mathematician."</p> + +<p>Besides he had his own clear-cut views of what he wished to do. And +those views were very strange. He wanted to go into a Bank.</p> + +<p>"Bank!" cried the amazed father. "Set at a counter all day and calcalate +sums?"</p> + +<p>The boy grinned behind his spectacles in his foolish way.</p> + +<p>"That's about it," he said.</p> + +<p>"Well, I never!" cried the father.</p> + +<p>But true to his principles he let his son go his own way. Indeed, he +helped him to a clerkship in the great Midland and Birmingham Joint +Stock Bank, of which his landlord, Sir Evelyn Merry, was chairman.</p> + +<p>"Glad to get him," said the old baronet. "If he's half as good a man as +his father he'll do well."</p> + +<p>The boy started at a local branch, and in a year was transferred to the +central office at Birmingham.</p> + +<p>There he spent his spare time attending evening classes. At the end of a +year he held a certificate, was entitled to put certain letters after +his name, and had written an article on bullion which appeared in the +<i>Banker's Magazine</i> and was translated into German.</p> + +<p>By the time he was thirty he was a manager, and ten years later he was +one of the managing directors of the second biggest Joint Stock Bank in +the richest country in the world.</p> + +<p>And he did not stop there. George Silver was a financier in the great +style, and a superlatively honest one. He had the initiative, the +knowledge, and above all the judgment that made some men call him the +Napoleon of Threadneedle Street. At forty-five he launched the Union +Bank of Brazil and Uruguay; and to that colossal undertaking he devoted +the last twenty-five years of his strenuous and successful life.</p> + +<p>In the City he was known thereafter as Brazil Silver.</p> + +<p>The Bank was his passion and his life.</p> + +<p>When at fifty, to the astonishment of many, he married, the City merely +said:</p> + +<p>"He must have an heir to carry on the Bank."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Silver was a semi-aristocratic woman of limited intelligence, +suppressed ambition, and sound limbs. It was the latter characteristic +which won her a husband. He was not such a bad judge of make and shape +as his father would have had the world believe; and as usual Brazil +Silver's judgment proved good. In the appointed time his wife fulfilled +her function, and gave him the son he asked of her.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII<br /> + +<span class="smcap">The Eton Man</span></h4> + + +<p>Jim Silver grew up neither his father's son nor his mother's.</p> + +<p>"He's a throw-back—to his grandfather," said old Sir Evelyn.</p> + +<p>And in fact from the first the lad's soul hankered after the broad lands +of Leicestershire rather than the counting-house in Threadneedle Street.</p> + +<p>His happiest days were spent as a child on his grand-dad's farm, amid +the great horses, and sweet-breathed kine, and golden stacks.</p> + +<p>"Back to the land," as his grandfather was fond of saying, was the +child's unspoken motto.</p> + +<p>The old man and his sturdy grandchild were rare intimates, and never so +happy as when wandering together about the yards and farm-buildings and +pastures, the child, silent and absorbed, as he clutched his grand-dad's +big brown finger.</p> + +<p>The pair did not talk much: they were too content. But there was one +often-repeated conversation which took place between them as they +strolled.</p> + +<p>"What goin' to be when you grows up, Jim?"</p> + +<p>"Farmer."</p> + +<p>"What shall ye breed?"</p> + +<p>"Shire-'osses."</p> + +<p>The child came back always from those prolonged visits with the sun on +his cheeks, the strength in his limbs, and Leicestershire broad upon his +tongue; and he never understood why his mother cut his visits short on +every imaginable pretext.</p> + +<p>At Eton the lad's friends were almost all drawn from the families in +whose blood, after generations of possession, the land and its +belongings had become a real if somewhat perverted passion. They would +sit on into the twilight in each other's studies and ramble on +interminably and with the exaggerated wisdom of seventeen about the +subject nearest to their youthful hearts.</p> + +<p>Sometimes Mr. Bromhead would look in, grim and gray behind his +spectacles.</p> + +<p>"Talking horses as usual, Jim, I suppose," he would say.</p> + +<p>"And dog, sir," corrected young Amersham.</p> + +<p>"With an occasional shorthorn chucked in to tip the scale," added old +Sir Evelyn's fair grandson.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>When Brazil Silver died, the year his son was the heavy-weight in the +Oxford boat, he left a will which was in accordance with his life.</p> + +<p>Every penny he had—and he had a good many, as the Chancellor of the +Exchequer remarked in the House of Commons—was tied up in the Bank, and +to remain there.</p> + +<p>It was all left to his son. "I can trust him to see to his mother," ran +the will, written on half a sheet of paper, "and to any dependents. +Charities I loathe."</p> + +<p>The son was free to save anything he liked from his vast income, but the +capital must stay in the Bank.</p> + +<p>The old man made no condition that Jim should enter the Bank, and +expressed no wish to that effect. His friends, therefore, speculated +what Jim would do.</p> + +<p>They might have spared themselves the trouble. He left Oxford, in spite +of the protests of the Captain of the boat, who spent a vain but hectic +week pointing out to the apostate the path of duty, which was also the +path of glory, and went into the Bank.</p> + +<p>His reasoning, as always, was simple and to the point.</p> + +<p>"The Bank was my father's show," he said. "He made it, and left it to me +to carry on. And I shall—to the best of my ability."</p> + +<p>With that capacity for dogged grind which distinguished him, he tried to +render himself efficient, working early and late like any clerk.</p> + +<p>It was a well-nigh hopeless task. Jim Silver's head was sound if slow; +but he had no aptitude for figures.</p> + +<p>"I'm worth two pound a week in the open market," he told his old +house-master. "And I'm supposed to be bossing—that." And he brandished +the latest report of the Bank of which he was nominal chairman.</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding obvious differences in many ways, Jim inherited some of +his father's characteristics.</p> + +<p>Brazil Silver, in spite of his success, had always remained in his +personal life the simple farmer's son. Indeed, it was said in the City +that he never owned a dress-suit, and that when he had to attend City +banquets he hired his butler's.</p> + +<p>When he died he left behind him none of the usual encumbrances. Original +in his private life as in finance, he had steadfastly refused to go the +way of the world. He had never bought a great place in the country or a +big house in town. He had never taken a Scotch moor or a river in +Norway. In London he had a plain but perfectly appointed flat; and +sometimes in the summer he took a house on the river or at St. Helen's.</p> + +<p>In these respects Jim followed faithfully in the steps of his father.</p> + +<p>He kept on the flat in town, worked in the City all the day, and spent +much time of evenings at the Eton Mission in Hackney Wick.</p> + +<p>One small extravagance he attempted: he tried to buy from old Sir Evelyn +the farm on which his fathers had lived and died for generations.</p> + +<p>The old gentleman, who would sooner have parted from his soul than from +an acre of his inheritance, refused to sell.</p> + +<p>"I suppose the boy'll cut up rough now," grumbled the old baronet, who +was fond of Jim.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, he won't, grandfather," replied his grandson. "He's awfully +decent."</p> + +<p>"We shall see," mumbled the old man; but he had shortly to admit that +Billy was right.</p> + +<p>Jim Silver, thwarted in his desire to acquire his grandfather's farm, +rented a little hunting-box near by instead. There he kept his +weight-carriers, and there during the hunting season he spent his +week-ends and occasional holidays.</p> + +<p>Since the days when he walked his grand-dad's farm as a child, his +ambitions had changed in degree but not in kind. Then he had proposed to +devote his life to breeding shire-horses. Now he meant, when once he had +mastered his job, to devote his leisure to owning and breeding 'chasers.</p> + +<p>Some time elapsed after his father's death before he let himself go in +this respect. His sensitive conscience and high sense of duty gave him +an uneasy mind in the matter. His father had disapproved of horses, or +rather had been afraid of the Turf and its consequences.</p> + +<p>It was a while before the son could assuage his qualms and feel himself +free to go forward in the prosecution of his desire.</p> + +<p>His old house-master, still his father-confessor in spiritual +distresses, finally dispelled the young man's doubts and launched him on +his destined way.</p> + +<p>"Be yourself," he said, "as your father was before you. He wouldn't +farm—because he hadn't got it in him. What he had in him was banking. +So like a wise man he banked. You've got it in you to breed steeplechase +horses. So breed them. Only—breed them better than any man ever bred +them before."</p> + +<p>The young man's mind once finally resolved, nothing could stop him. And +it was in the pursuit of his desire that he first came across Mat +Woodburn.</p> + +<p>The old man and the young took to each other from the first. Indeed, +there was much in common between the two. Both were simple of heart, +children of nature, caring little for the world, and both believed with +passionate conviction that an English thoroughbred was the crown and +glory of God's creatures.</p> + +<p>"<i>HE</i> didn't make no mistake <i>that</i> time," the old man was fond of +saying with emphasis, to the amusement of Mr. Haggard and the annoyance +of his wife.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII<br /> + +<span class="smcap">Boy in Her Eyrie</span></h4> + + +<p>In the corner of the yard at Putnam's was Billy Bluff's kennel. Above +the kennel, a broad ladder, much haunted by Maudie, the free, who loved +to sit on it and tantalize with her airs of liberty Billy, the prisoner +on his chain, led to the loft above the stable.</p> + +<p>It was a very ordinary loft in the roof, dusty, dark, with hay piled in +one corner, a chaff-cutter, and trap-doors in the floor, through which +the forage was thrust down into the mangers of the horses below.</p> + +<p>At the end of the loft was a wooden partition. Behind the partition was +the girl's room.</p> + +<p>She slept and lived up there over the stable at her own desire. It was +less like being in a house: the girl felt herself her own mistress as +she did not under the maternal roof; and most of all she was near the +horses.</p> + +<p>"I keep two watch-dogs at my place," Old Mat would say. "Billy Bluff +a-low and my little gal a-loft."</p> + +<p>Boy loved to go to sleep to the sound of the rhythmical munching of the +horses beneath, and to wake to the noise of them blowing their noses in +the dawn. Never a mouse moved in the stable at night but she was aware +of it. And when a horse was training for a big event barely a night +passed but in the small hours a white, bare-footed figure issued from +the partition and came swiftly along the loft, disturbing rats and bats +as she came, to lift a trap-door and look down with guardian eye on the +hope of the stable dreaming unconsciously beneath.</p> + +<p>In her solitary eyrie up there the girl learned a great deal.</p> + +<p>Elsie Haggard, the vicar's daughter, or, as Mrs. Woodburn would say, +with that touch of satire characteristic of her, the daughter of the +vicar's wife, who was two years older than Boy, and at college, once +asked her if she wasn't afraid.</p> + +<p>"Afraid!" asked the girl. "What of?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," answered Elsie. "It's so far from everybody."</p> + +<p>"I like being alone," replied the girl. "And there are the horses."</p> + +<p>Elsie Haggard shared her mother's concern for Boy Woodburn's soul.</p> + +<p>"And Someone Else," she said.</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied the girl simply, almost brutally. "There's the Lord."</p> + +<p>Elsie Haggard looked at her sharply, suspecting her of flippancy.</p> + +<p>Nothing clearly was further from the girl's mind. Her face was unusually +soft, almost dreamy.</p> + +<p>"Wherever there are horses and dogs and creatures He is, don't you +think?" she said, quite unconscious that she was quoting inexactly a +recently discovered saying dear to Mr. Haggard.</p> + +<p>"Ye-es," answered Elsie dubiously. "Of course, they've got no souls."</p> + +<p>The dreamer vanished.</p> + +<p>"I don't agree," flashed the girl.</p> + +<p>Elsie mounted on her high horse.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you know more about it than my father," she said.</p> + +<p>"He doesn't agree, either," retorted the girl mercilessly.</p> + +<p>She was right; and Elsie knew it. The vicar's daughter made a lame +recovery. Theology was always her father's weak point.</p> + +<p>"Or mother," she said.</p> + +<p>"Your mother doesn't know much about a horse," said the girl slowly.</p> + +<p>"She knows about their souls," cried Elsie triumphantly.</p> + +<p>"She can't if they haven't got them," retorted Boy, with the brutal +logic that distinguished her.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Boy Woodburn's room in the loft was characteristic of its owner.</p> + +<p>Mr. Haggard said it was full of light and little else.</p> + +<p>It was the room of a boy, not of a girl; of a soldier, and not an +artist.</p> + +<p>The girl in truth had the limitations of her qualities. She was so near +to Nature that she had no need for Art, and no understanding of it.</p> + +<p>The room knew neither carpet, curtain, nor blind. The sun, the wind, and +not seldom the rain and snow were free of it. A small collapsible +camp-bed, a copper basin and jug, an old chest, a corner cupboard—these +constituted the furniture. The walls were whitewashed. Three of them +knew no pictures. On one was her hunting-crop, a cutting-whip, and a +pair of spurs; beneath them a boot-jack and three pairs of soft +riding-boots in various stages of wear. In the corner stood a +tandem-whip.</p> + +<p>Above the mantelpiece was one of the plates in which Cannibal had run +the National, framing a photograph of the ugliest horse that ever won +at Aintree—and the biggest, to judge from the size of the plate. +Beneath it was a picture of the Good Shepherd and the Lost Sheep, and a +church almanac. On the mantelpiece were the photographs of her mother, +her father, Monkey Brand in the Putnam colours, and the Passion Play at +Oberammergau; while pinned above the clock was the one poem, other than +certain hymns and psalms, that Boy knew by heart.</p> + +<p>It was called <i>Two on the Downs</i>, and had been written by Mr. Haggard, +when in the first vigour of youth he had come to take up his ministry in +Cuckmere thirty years since:</p> + + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Two on the Downs</span></p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;"><i>Climb ho!</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;"><i>So we go</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>Up the hill to the sky,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;"><i>Through the lane where the apple-blossoms blow</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>And the lovers pass us by.</i></span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>Let them laugh at you and me,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>Let them if they dare!</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>They're almost as bad maybe—</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>What do we care?</i></span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;"><i>Halt ho!</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;"><i>On the brow!—</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>O, the world is wide!</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;"><i>And the wind and the waters blow and flow</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>In the sun on every side.</i></span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>By the dew-pond windy-dark,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>Take a gusty breath;</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>The gorse in glory,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>The sunshine hoary</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>Upon the sea beneath.</i></span><br /> +<br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 21em;"><i>Swing ho!</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;"><i>Bowing go,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>Breathless with laughter and song,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;"><i>The wind in her wilful hair a-blow,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>Swinging along, along.</i></span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>She and I, girl and boy,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>Merrily arm in arm,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>The lark above us,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>And God to love us,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>And keep our hearts from harm.</i></span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;"><i>Sing ho!</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;"><i>So we go,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>Over Downs that are surging green,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;"><i>Under the sky and the seas that lie</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><i>Silvery-strewn between</i>.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>One brilliant morning in early June, some two months after she had +brought the gypsy's mare back to Putnam's on the evening of the Polefax +Meeting, Boy rose early and stood humming the lines as she dressed, to a +simple little tune she had composed for them.</p> + +<p>The words were in harmony with her mood and with the morning. In part +they inspired, in part they determined her. As she began the song Boy +was wondering whether she should begin to bathe. Her mind had resolved +itself without effort as she ended.</p> + +<p>There had been a week of summer; the tide would be high, and only a day +or two back a coastguard at the Gap had told her that the water was +warming fast.</p> + +<p>She went to the window and looked out over the vast green sweep of the +Paddock Close running away up the gorse-crowned hillside that rose like +a rampart at the back.</p> + +<p>It was early. The sun had risen, but the mist lay white as yet in the +hollows and hung about the dripping trees. Earth and sky and sea called +her.</p> + +<p>The girl slipped into her riding-boots, put her jersey on, and over it +her worn long-skirted coat, twisted her bathing gown and cap inside her +towel, and walked across the loft, the old boards shaking beneath her +swift feet.</p> + +<p>At the top of the ladder she paused a moment and looked down.</p> + +<p>The fan-tails strutted in the yard; Maudie licked herself on the ladder +just out of the reach of Billy Bluff, who, tossing on his chain, greeted +the girl with a volley of yelps, yaps, howls of triumph, petition, +expectation and joy.</p> + +<p>Maudie, less pleased, rose coldly, and descended the ladder. She knew by +experience what to expect when that slight figure came tripping down the +ladder.</p> + +<p>The Monster-without-Manners would be let loose upon Society. The +Monster-without-Manners was kept in his place all through the night by a +simple but admirable expedient which Maudie did not profess to +understand. As the sun peeped over the wall, Two-legs appeared at the +top of the ladder, and peace departed from the earth till the sun went +down again, when the Monster-without-Manners resumed his proper place +upon the chain. He did not know how to treat a lady, and was impervious +to scratches that would have taught one less shaggy. He was rough, and +no gentleman.</p> + +<p>Maudie herself had the manners of an aristocrat of fiction. She walked +through life, curling a contumelious lip, unshaken by the passions, +aloof from the struggles, high above the emotions that stir and beset +the creatures of the dust. In Maudie's estimation Billy Bluff was a +bounder. Certainly he bounded, and like most bounders he conceived of +himself quite falsely as a funny fellow.</p> + +<p>Brooding on her grievances, Maudie strolled thoughtfully across the +yard, one eye always on her enemy, timing herself to be on the top of +the wall just a second before the M.-w.-M. was free to bound.</p> + +<p>"Shut up, you ass!" said the girl as she released the bob-tail.</p> + +<p>He was away with a roar, scattering the fan-tails, as he launched on his +way to exchange jibes with Maudie, languid, secure, and insolent on the +top of the wall.</p> + +<p>The girl went to the saddle-room, took down her saddle and bridle, and +turned into the stable.</p> + +<p>For once she was not the first.</p> + +<p>Monkey Brand was before her, standing at the head of a now familiar +chestnut pony, waiting, saddled, on the pillar-reins.</p> + +<p>"Is Mr. Silver down?" the girl asked, surprised.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Miss. Came late last night. Down for the week-end, I believe. He's +goin' for a stretch before he looks at the 'orses," the little jockey +informed her. "They're goin' to gallop Make-Way-There this morning."</p> + +<p>"Are they?" said the girl sharply.</p> + +<p>It was rarely anything took place in the stable without her knowledge. +And Make-Way-There, who was one of Mr. Silver's horses, was to run at +the Paris Meeting two weeks hence.</p> + +<p>The girl, to hide her resentment, placed her hand on the pony's neck, +hard as marble beneath a skin that was soft to the touch as a mole's.</p> + +<p>"Ain't he a little clinker?" said Monkey Brand in hushed voice. "They +say Mr. Silver refused £600 for him at Hurlingham. And he took champion +at the Poly Pony Show."</p> + +<p>The girl's hand travelled down the pony's neck with firm, strong, +rhythmical stroke.</p> + +<p>"Heart of Oak!" she purred affectionately.</p> + +<p>Ragamuffin, the old roan pony in the next stall, began to move, restless +and irritable.</p> + +<p>"He's jealous, is old Rags," smiled Monkey.</p> + +<p>The girl went to the roan.</p> + +<p>"Now, then, old man," she said. "Old friends first."</p> + +<p>She saddled him and led him out into the yard.</p> + +<p>Attached to the d's of the light saddle was a string forage bag such as +cavalry soldiers carry. Into it she stuffed her towel and all that it +contained.</p> + +<p>Monkey Brand held the pony's head as she mounted.</p> + +<p>"How's the old mare?" she asked, gathering her reins.</p> + +<p>"Four Pound?" queried the jockey. "I didn't see her this morning as I +come along, Miss. She must ha' been layin' behind the trees. Another +week, I should say."</p> + +<p>"William!" called the girl, and rode through the gate into the Paddock +Close.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Since the Polefax Meeting Silver had come and gone continually. His +week-ends he spent frequently at Putnam's, returning to London by the +first train on Monday morning.</p> + +<p>"He don't like the Bank, and I don't blame him," said Old Mat. "I reck'n +he'd like to be all the while in the saddle on the Downs."</p> + +<p>"Why does he stick to the Bank?" the girl blurted out.</p> + +<p>It was the only question she had ever put about Mr. Silver.</p> + +<p>"Because he's got to, my dear," replied the sagacious old man. "If he +don't stick to the Bank, the Bank won't stick to him, I guess."</p> + +<p>In those months the girl had learned a good deal about Mr. Silver. He +was different from the other men she knew. She had felt that at once on +meeting him. She was shy with him and short; and it was rare for her to +be shy with men. Indeed, in her heart she knew that she was almost +afraid of him. And she had never known herself afraid of a man before. +That made her angry with him, though it was no fault of his.</p> + +<p>Then she had resented the unconscious part he had played in the affair +of the wood. She was sure he was laughing at her. And that good, plain, +smileless face of his, and the very fact that he never referred to the +incident, only made her the more suspicious.</p> + +<p>His awkward big-dog attempts at friendliness had been repulsed. She +played the Maudie to his Billy Bluff, and all would have been well but +that he refused to get back upon her by bounding. Instead, he apparently +had come to the conclusion that she disliked him, and had withdrawn.</p> + +<p>That made her angrier still.</p> + +<p>Now she had not even known that he was coming down last night. And worst +and most unforgivable of all, she had not been told that Make-Way-There +was to be galloped that morning.</p> + +<p>Ragamuffin, the roan, was surprised when his mistress picked him up +immediately she entered the Paddock Close and pushed him into a canter.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV<br /> + +<span class="smcap">Old Man Badger</span></h4> + + +<p>Ragamuffin was old, but his heart was good. Directly his mistress asked +him he snatched for his head and went away smooth and swift as a racing +boat.</p> + +<p>Boy pulled off to the right and made for the clump of trees half-way up +the hill.</p> + +<p>The gypsy's mare was grazing by herself behind them.</p> + +<p>The girl steadied to a halt and watched her critically, calling Billy +Bluff to heel.</p> + +<p>She didn't want the boisterous young dog to worry the old mare just now, +and it was clear that Four Pound didn't want it either.</p> + +<p>As Billy Bluff skirmished about, she put back her ears and lowered her +head with an irritable motion; but she was far too lazy to make the +charge she threatened.</p> + +<p>The girl's inspection made, and conclusions drawn, she pursued her way +up the hill, popped her pony over the low post and rails which fenced +off the Paddock Close from the untamed Downs, and walked leisurely over +the brow, the gorse warm and smelling in the sun.</p> + +<p>Beneath her a valley stretched away to the sea. There the cliff rose +steeply to a lighthouse, standing on a bare summit; dipped, and rose +again. In the hollow between the two hills a white coastguard station +sentinelled the Gap, across which the line of the sea stretched like a +silver wire.</p> + +<p>Nobody was yet astir save a ploughman driving a team of slow-moving oxen +to the fields. To Boy the beauty of the early morning lay in the fact +that she had the hills and heavens and seas to herself, and could enjoy +them in her own way without thought of interference from a world too +frivolous, too feverish, and above all too loud, to understand.</p> + +<p>As she rode along, her young face was uplifted to catch the rivulets of +song that came pouring down on her from the blue.</p> + +<p>She dropped down the hill, disturbing the rabbits busy in the dew, and +bursting through the cables of gossamer that tried to stay her. A +kestrel hovered over the gorse, and she marked a badger on the hillside +shuffling home before Man and his Dogs began the old rowdy-dowdy game +once more.</p> + +<p>Happily Billy Bluff, who was always too much absorbed in the object +immediately beneath his nose to take long views, did not see him. And +the girl was glad. Sport, in so far as it meant killing the creatures of +the wilderness for pleasure, made no appeal to her. She had no desire +whatever to see a fight between the badger and Billy Bluff. The badger +had in her judgment many qualities. She respected his desire for freedom +and determination to go his own way. Also if the pair fought, the girl +shrewdly suspected that Billy Bluff, big though he was, and bold as a +lion, might be worsted. For Billy, after all, was decadent according to +the standards of the wilderness.</p> + +<p>He lived on a chain, protected by the police, and fed by hand. Every man +was not his enemy, and he had not to hunt for each meal or go without. +Billy Bluff, however fine a fellow he might be in his own eyes, was a +poor creature in that of Warrior Badger. Civilization, if it had given +him much of which the badger recked nothing, had also taken her toll of +him.</p> + +<p>Thinking vaguely thus, the girl once down the hill caught hold of +Ragamuffin and spun him along the valley between the hills till she came +to the coastguard station, straggling like a flock of sheep across the +Gap.</p> + +<p>At the mouth of the Gap was a familiar post.</p> + +<p>She slipped Ragamuffin's rein over it, and ran down the steep, uneven +way through the chalk cliff, her bob-tail baying at her side.</p> + +<p>Right athwart the Gap, peering into it, shining-eyed and splendid, lay +the sea, calling her.</p> + +<p>"I'm coming!" her heart answered with a thrill, and she swooped toward +it with a whoop and widespread arms.</p> + +<p>Her feet crashed into the jolly shouting shingle, and she ploughed her +way through it, to the rocks under the cliff which made her bathing +tent.</p> + +<p>The tide was brimming and beautiful. It came welling up, curled and fell +with a soft, delicious swish on the answering beach.</p> + +<p>Calm and full, twinkling still through faint mists, its shining surface +was ruffled faintly by a light-footed breeze.</p> + +<p>Swift as a bird the girl, blue-clad now, came rushing out from her +hiding-place, her fair hair bunched in a cap, the sea in her nostrils, +and exaltation in her heart.</p> + +<p>This surely was heaven!</p> + +<p>A moment she hovered on the brink, testing the waters with a tentative +foot.</p> + +<p>Then with a sigh of content she trusted herself to the deep. It closed +about her like the arms of a friend.</p> + +<p>She had not bathed since November, and it seemed to her the ocean +welcomed her, clinging to her, lifting her, loving her, holding her +close.</p> + +<p>She buried her face in it, rose dripping, shaking the water off her eyes +and face and hair, and swam out to sea with long and steady strokes.</p> + +<p>She did not shout, she did not splash, she did not play the fool, and +did not want to; rejoicing deeply in the quiet of her great friend, +heart to heart and flesh to flesh, while the waters made music all about +her.</p> + +<p>The first bath was for her a kind of sacrament. She drew from it the +deep and tranquil exaltation that she supposed Elsie Haggard drew from +Communion.</p> + +<p>Fifty yards out to sea she turned and trod water.</p> + +<p>Billy Bluff, the old ass, was fussing about on the edge of the tide, +barking at her.</p> + +<p>"William!" called the head on the water. "Come on!"</p> + +<p>Billy fiddled and flirted and could not bring himself to make the +plunge.</p> + +<p>Boy watched him with amused resentment. It was his domesticity which was +his undoing. Old Man Badger on the hillside would never have dillied or +dallied like that.</p> + +<p>"Come on!" she ordered deeply. "Or I'll come and lug you in."</p> + +<p>Billy marked the imperious note in his young mistress's voice. He ran +this way and that, excused himself, pranced, whined, whimpered, yapped, +barked, tasted the water and didn't like it, tried a dip, and withdrew, +and finally made the effort and shoved off.</p> + +<p>He swam rather low. His long, black back lay along the shining surface, +his hair floating like seaweed on either side of him, while he left a +little eddying wake behind him, as he pushed swiftly toward the girl.</p> + +<p>As he came nearer she splashed him and he barked joyfully. He made for +her, to paw and sprawl upon her. She evaded him.</p> + +<p>Awhile girl and dog sported together in the deep, happy and laughing as +two children.</p> + +<p>Then they raced for the shore. He reached it first and, a caricature of +his usual shaggy self, ran up toward her clothes, flinging off showers +of drops.</p> + +<p>"Keep off, creature!" she ordered, her big voice emerging strangely from +her wisp of dripping figure, as she walked delicately up the shingle.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV<br /> + +<span class="smcap">The Three J's</span></h4> + + +<p>Old Mat was fond of telling his intimates that Monkey Brand was fly.</p> + +<p>"He do love his little bit o' roguey-poguey," he would say with a +twinkle. And it was the old man's opinion, often expressed, that weight +for age Monkey would beat the crooks at their own game every time.</p> + +<p>And when he set the little jockey to snout about and rout out the +business of Joses, he knew he was setting his head-lad a task after his +heart.</p> + +<p>Monkey Brand had gone to work indeed with the tenacity and the tact that +distinguished him. Once on a line, he hunted it with the ruthlessness of +a stoat. But this time, it seemed, he had met his match. If Monkey was +cunning as a fox, Joses was wary as a lynx.</p> + +<p>The fat man watched the other's manoeuvres with eyes that did not +disguise their amusement. He was always ready for a chat in which Monkey +liberally be-larded him with sirs, was obsequious and deferential; but +he would never cross the door of a public-house, and never, as the +little man reported, "let on."</p> + +<p>It was by a chance the seeker came on the clue at last.</p> + +<p>One evening he marked his victim down in the Post Office and followed +him quietly. Joses was at the counter sending a telegram. The +postmistress, unable to read the code-address, had asked for +enlightenment.</p> + +<p>"Spavin," Joses said; and the secret was out. For all the world knew +that Spavin was the code-address of the shady and successful trainer at +Dewhurst on the Arunvale side of the Downs.</p> + +<p>"Who said Jaggers?" came a little voice at his elbow.</p> + +<p>The fat man turned to find the jockey close behind him.</p> + +<p>"I did," he answered brazenly.</p> + +<p>Monkey smiled the smile of a bottle-fed cherub.</p> + +<p>"'Ow's my ole pal Chukkers?" he piped.</p> + +<p>Joses grinned.</p> + +<p>"Just back," he said.</p> + +<p>"So I hears," answered the other. "Been teachin' 'em tricks in +Horsetralia, ain't he? Went there by way of God's Country, same as per +usual, huntin' fer black diamonds. What's he brought back this +journey?—a pink-eyed broncho from the Prairees bought for ten cents +from a Texas cow-puncher, and guaranteed to show the English plugs the +way to move."</p> + +<p>Joses wagged a shaggy head. If to retain a sense of humour is still to +possess something of a soul, then the fat man was not entirely lost.</p> + +<p>"You love Chukkers, don't you?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Don't I love all dagos?" asked Monkey. "Sich a pretty little way with +'em they got. Same as a baa-lamb in the meadow 'mong the buttercups."</p> + +<p>"Then now I'll tell you something for yourself," said Joses. "He loves +all the English—owners, jockeys, and crowd. But he loves <i>you</i> best."</p> + +<p>"Never!" cried Monkey, greatly moved. "Then I'm the man what won the +Greaser's Heart. It's too much."</p> + +<p>A few further inquiries, made by Mat, put the thing beyond question.</p> + +<p>Joses was watcher for Jaggers, who trained for Ikey Aaronsohnn, for whom +Chukkers rode.</p> + +<p>In England, Australia, and the Americas, the three were always spoken of +together as the Three J's—Jaggers, the Jockey, and the Jew. Wherever +horses raced their fame was great, and amongst the English at least it +was evil and ominous.</p> + +<p>"Rogues and rasqueals!" Old Mat would say with one of his deep sighs. +"But whatebber should we do without 'em?"</p> + +<p>For Putnam's the Three J's had always possessed a particular interest.</p> + +<p>Their stable was at Dewhurst, just behind Arunvah, at the other end of +the South Downs. And Dewhurst had been for twenty years the centre of +that campaign to lower the colours of the English thoroughbred, which +Ikey Aaronsohnn had embarked upon in his unforgotten youth.</p> + +<p>The little Levantine hailed from New York, Hamburg, and +London—especially the first two. A cosmopolitan banker, and genial +rascal, he had, even in England, a host of friends, and deserved them. A +man of ideals, and extremely tenacious, <i>objets d'art</i> and steeplechase +horses had been his twin passions from his childhood. He collected both +with a judgment amounting to genius. And there were few experts in +either kind who were not prepared to acknowledge him their master.</p> + +<p>The day when Ikey, then young, sure of himself, and enthusiastic, had +been called a "bloody little German Jew" in the Paddock at Liverpool by +a noble English sportsman, as he led his first winner home, had been +forgotten by others but not by him. And when a year later the little man +stood for White's Club, on the strength of winning the International, +and was black-balled, the die was cast.</p> + +<p>There was no doubt that Ikey had his qualities. Whether he was your +friend or your enemy, he never forgot you; and he gave you cause to +remember him. His memory was long; his temper not to be ruffled; his +humour, in victory and defeat, invincible; his purse unfathomable. He +was never known to be angry, impetuous, or bitter. And he never deviated +from his aim. That aim, as he once told the New York Yacht Club, in +words that were trumpeted across the world, was "to lick the English +thoroughbred on his own ground, at his own game, all the time, and every +way."</p> + +<p>What P. Forilland had done for a previous generation of Americans, when +Iroquois snatched the Blue Riband of the Turf from the English and bore +it across the Atlantic, Ikey meant to do some day at Liverpool.</p> + +<p>"We've wopped 'em once on the flat, and we'll wop 'em yet across +country," he once said at Meadow Brook.</p> + +<p>It was with this end in view that Chukkers, then a kid-jockey from the +West, had crossed the ocean in Ikey's train, and first carried to +victory the star-spangled jacket which for the past twenty years had +caused such heart-burnings among the English owners, trainers, and +jockeys, and such mingled enthusiasm and indignation in the +uncertain-tempered English crowd.</p> + +<p>In that twenty years Ikey, if he had never yet achieved his end and won +the Grand National with an other-than-English horse, had given the +Englishmen such a shaking as they had never experienced before.</p> + +<p>All over the world, wherever horses were bred, from the Punjab to the +Pampas, and from the Tenterfield Ranges to Old Virginia, he had his +scouts and his stud-farms. It was said that if a wall-eyed pack mule, +carrying quartz in the Nevadas, showed a disposition to gallop and jump +he would be in Ikey's stable in a fortnight, and, if he made good, at +Dewhurst within six months.</p> + +<p>It was, of course, with the Walers that the little Levantine came +nearest his desire. He imported them into the old country on a scale +never before dreamed of. Some of them proved themselves great horses, +the equals of the best the English could bring against them: all were +good. And it was only by an act of God, as the enemy English declared, +that Boomerang, the king of them, had failed to win the National and +consummate his owner's long-delayed end.</p> + +<p>But Ikey, that merry little rogue, the cup of victory dashed from his +lips, never for a moment lost heart.</p> + +<p>As he truly said,</p> + +<p>"If I haven't yet found the horse, I've found the jockey that can beat +their best."</p> + +<p>And in time he would find the horse, too.</p> + +<p>He believed that. So did America.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI<br /> + +<span class="smcap">The Fat Man</span></h4> + + +<p>It was notorious that the Three J's (or, to be more exact, Ikey) not +only had their scouts out all over the world, seeking what Monkey Brand +called "black diamonds," but that they had their eyes everywhere in the +Old Country, watching enemy stables. And Joses was the Eye that watched +all the stables on the South Downs from Beachy Head to the Rother—and +Putnam's most of all.</p> + +<p>When tackled further on the subject by Monkey Brand, the tout admitted +the fact without demur and even with pride.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he swaggered. "I'm a commission agent. A very honourable +profession, too."</p> + +<p>"Not ha hartist at all?" queried Monkey, chewing his quid.</p> + +<p>Joses laughed and spread himself, throwing back his gingery curls.</p> + +<p>"I was at Oxford," he said, "and I've all the tastes of a gentleman. Art +and poetry are my specialties—when my professional duties allow me +time."</p> + +<p>The little dark jockey turned in his lips, eyeing the other with bland +interest.</p> + +<p>"'Ark to him!" he said. "Don't he talk. Learned the patter at Oxford +College, I expect." He turned on his lame leg. "Anyway, we know now +where we are, Mr. Moses Joses."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>After the incident in the Post Office Joses dropped his easel and went +about with field-glasses unashamed. To give him his due, there were few +better watchers in the trade. A man of education and great natural +ability, he was quite unscrupulous as to how he achieved his end.</p> + +<p>As Chukkers said of him:</p> + +<p>"He gets there. Never mind how."</p> + +<p>Joses indeed was out early and late, and he was horribly alert. Nobody +knew when and where his fat body and brown face might not be turning up.</p> + +<p>"Crawls around like a great red slug," said Old Mat; and it was seldom a +horse did a big gallop but the fat man was there to see.</p> + +<p>The morning Boy went for her first dip he was at the lighthouse on the +cliff above the Gap. Whether he had slept there, or risen with the dawn, +it was hard to say. The lighthouse marked the highest point in the +neighbourhood, and was therefore useful for the watcher's purpose. From +there with his glasses he could sweep The Mare's Back and The Giant's +Shoulder and neighbouring ridges on which the horses of the stables in +the district galloped.</p> + +<p>The Paris Meeting was the next big event; and Ikey Aaronsohnn's horse +Jackaroo—the waler Chukkers had just brought back with him from the +other side—was to make his first appearance at it. There was only one +English horse of which the Dewhurst stable had not the measure, and that +was the Putnam mare Make-Way-There. Jaggers, in that curt, sub-acid way +of his, had instructed Joses to report on her form, and "to make no +mistake about it."</p> + +<p>The tout had touched his hat and answered:</p> + +<p>"Very good, sir."</p> + +<p>Now it was well known that a man had to be up very early in every sense +if he wanted to keep an eye on a Putnam horse. Mat Woodburn might be +old, but he was by no means sleepy; and Joses could not afford to +blunder.</p> + +<p>Last night two telegrams had come to Cuckmere: one was to Silver from +Chukkers, and the other to Joses from Jaggers. They had been written at +the same moment by the same man. And the one to Joses ran—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;"><i>Make-Way-There to-morrow.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Standing under the lee of the lighthouse, seeing while himself unseen, +the tout kept his eyes to his glasses.</p> + +<p>Little escaped him. He saw the badger moving on the hillside, and +watched the girl on her pony come over the crest from Putnam's, a slight +figure black against the sky. He followed her as she dropped down the +hill and scampered along the valley, marked her hang her pony's rein +over the post, and disappear down the gap.</p> + +<p>Joses closed his glasses. His face became a dirty red. It was as though +the mud in him had been stirred by an obscene hand.</p> + +<p>In a moment a slight figure in a blue gown appeared from under the cliff +and entered the sea.</p> + +<p>Shoving his glasses into his pocket, Joses began to shuffle down the +hill toward the Gap. The kittiwakes flashed and swept and hovered in the +blue above him. The sea shone and twinkled far beneath. A great, +brown-sailed barge lolled lazily by under the cliff.</p> + +<p>He was unaware of them, shuffling over the short, sweet-scented turf +like some great human hog, snorting as he went, his eyes on that little +bobbing black dot on the face of the waters beneath him.</p> + +<p>There was no cover. The turf lifted its calm face to the naked sky. And +he crept along, crouching in himself, as though fearing detection from +on high.</p> + +<p>The girl was in and out of the water again with astonishing speed. By +the time the tout had reached the foot of the hill she was under the +cliff again and out of sight. He peered over stealthily. There was +nothing much to see but a dark blue gown spread on a rock to dry, and +behind the rock the bob of a bathing cap.</p> + +<p>The Gap was three hundred yards away. A sleepy coastguard had emerged +from one of the cottages and was washing at a tub of rain water.</p> + +<p>Where Joses stood the cliff was low, scarcely twenty feet above the +beach, and was not entirely precipitous.</p> + +<p>He pocketed his glasses and scrambled panting down to the beach.</p> + +<p>Then he began to stalk the rock decorated with the bathing gown; and he +did not look pretty.</p> + +<p>His hot red face perspired, and he panted as he crawled.</p> + +<p>It is hard to say what was in his heart, and better perhaps not to +inquire.</p> + +<p>One thing only stood out clearly in his mind.</p> + +<p>He owed that girl behind the rock <i>two</i>; and Joses rarely forgot to pay +his debts.</p> + +<p>There was first the affair of the wood. He suffered pain and +inconvenience still as the result of that incident, and the doctor told +him that he might expect to continue to suffer it. And what mattered +more, there was the sense of humiliation and the disfigurement. His +nose, never a thing of beauty, was now a standing offence. The children +ran from it, and Joses was genuinely fond of children. The little +daughter of Mrs. Boam, his landlady, Jenny, once his friend, had now +deserted him.</p> + +<p>And there was the matter of the young man, which he found it even harder +to forgive. That young man was Silver, and he was a Mug. A mug was made +to be drained; and Joses had dreamed that to him would fall the draining +of this singularly fine specimen of his class. His attachment to the +firm of the Three J's, based largely on fear, was not such but that he +would break it at any moment could he do so with security and profit.</p> + +<p>He had known all about Silver long before he had turned up at Putnam's; +it was part of his business to know about such young men. Indeed, he had +made an abortive, determined, and characteristically tortuous attempt to +sweep the young man and his horses into Jaggers's capacious net.</p> + +<p>Silver indeed had hesitated awhile between the two stables. Then he had +met Jaggers, and had decided at once—against Dewhurst. When the game +was finally lost, and it was known that Putnam's had come out top again +in the struggle that had lasted between the two stables for thirty +years, the tout changed his method but never lost sight of his ideal; +yearning over the rich young man as a mother yearns over a child.</p> + +<p>His dreams had been shattered finally in the wood a month back, and for +that dêbâcle the girl behind the rock must be held responsible.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII<br /> + +<span class="smcap">Boy Sees a Vision</span></h4> + + +<p>Joses when in liquor was wont to boast that his memory was good, and he +was right upon the whole. But on this occasion he had forgotten +something, and that something was Billy Bluff. Billy and Joses had met +before, as Monkey Brand had pointed out to Mat, and had agreed to +dislike each other. And when Joses began his stalk, Billy Bluff started +on a stalk of his own.</p> + +<p>Boy Woodburn, peeping between two rocks, watched with grim glee. Her +senses, quick as those of a wild creature, had warned her long ago of +the Great Beast's approach. For Joses to imagine he could take her by +surprise was as though a beery bullock believed that he could catch a +lark. The girl was almost sorry for the man: his fatness, his fatuity +appealed to her pity. Alert as a leopard, she was not in the least +afraid of him. In the wood, true, he had caught her, but her downfall +there she owed to a sprain. Here in the open, in her riding things, she +could run rings about her enemy.</p> + +<p>Lying on her face behind the rock, she watched the little drama.</p> + +<p>Billy Bluff, wet still from the sea, his hair clinging about his ribs, +and giving him the air of a heraldic griffin, crept on the puffing fat +man and hurled at him with a roar.</p> + +<p>The assault was entirely unexpected.</p> + +<p>"You—bear!" blurted Joses, the picturesque phrase popping out of him +like a cork from a heady bottle of champagne.</p> + +<p>He struggled to his feet, picked up a stone, and slung it at the +charging dog.</p> + +<p>Billy Bluff meant business; and it was well for his enemy that the stone +struck him on the fore-paw. The blow steadied, but it did not stop, the +dog. He gave a little gurgle and came again on three legs in silent +fury.</p> + +<p>Joses made for the cliff, where a fall had constituted a steep ramp. He +scrambled up it, an avalanche of chalk slipping away from beneath his +feet and half burying the pursuing dog.</p> + +<p>He panted up to the top of the ramp, and stood with his back to the +cliff, looking down on his attacker.</p> + +<p>Billy Bluff could not make his footing good upon the shale.</p> + +<p>He lay at the foot of the cliff, one eye on his prey, licking his +damaged paw, and swearing beneath his breath. And it was clear he did +not mean to budge.</p> + +<p>Joses turned his face to the cliff. He got his hands on the top, and +lifting himself, could just peer over the edge of the cliff and see the +green and the gorse beyond. Unaided, he could do no more.</p> + +<p>Happily help was at hand.</p> + +<p>A man on a chestnut pony was standing on the turf not twenty yards away.</p> + +<p>"Give me a hand up, will you?" he panted. "That —— of a dog!"</p> + +<p>The young man approached.</p> + +<p>"By all means," he said, in a deep, familiar voice.</p> + +<p>It was Silver.</p> + +<p>Joses did not mind that. He was not at all above taking a hand from an +enemy in an emergency.</p> + +<p>And young Silver seemed surprisingly kind. Big men usually were.</p> + +<p>The young man got off his pony, came to the edge of the cliff, and gave +the perspiring tout his hand. With a heave and a lurch Joses scrambled +to the top.</p> + +<p>How strong the fellow was! No horse would ever get away with <i>him</i>.</p> + +<p>"Good of you," panted the fat man, rising to his feet.</p> + +<p>"Not at all," replied Silver. "It was less trouble to pull you up than +to come down to you."</p> + +<p>There was a note in his quiet voice Joses did not like.</p> + +<p>"What you mean?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to give you a hiding," observed the other mildly.</p> + +<p>Joses looked aghast at his rescuer and snorted. He shot forward his +shaggy face, and the action seemed to depress his chest and obtrude his +stomach.</p> + +<p>"Whaffor?" he asked, in tones that betrayed the fact that such +experiences were not entirely new to him.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Silver in his exasperatingly lazy way. "I feel I'd +rather like to."</p> + +<p>He seemed quietly amused, much more so than was Joses. And he meant what +he said. His clean, calm face, his mouth so determined and yet so mild, +his steady eyes and the thrust of his jaw, all betrayed his resolution.</p> + +<p>"Here, stow it!" stammered the fat man. "Chuck the chaff. A gentleman!"</p> + +<p>"I'm not chaffing," said Silver in a matter-of-fact way. "How d'you like +it?"</p> + +<p>"What ye mean?"</p> + +<p>"Will you put your hands up—or will you take it lying?"</p> + +<p>His pony's rein was over the young man's arm; and they were standing on +the edge of the cliff. Joses, weighing his chances with the swift and +comprehending eye of fear, marked it greedily. Silver was young, strong, +an athlete; but he was handicapped.</p> + +<p>Joses's cunning was returning to reinforce his doubtful heart.</p> + +<p>"That's Heart of Oak, isn't it?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Is it?" said the young man.</p> + +<p>"The model polo pony," continued Joses. "Refused £600 for him at +Islington, didn't you? And I don't blame you. You're rich, we all know, +Mr. Silver. £600's no more to you than sixpence to me. But there's the +pony! You can't replace him. Pity if he got away here on the edge of the +cliff and all."</p> + +<p>For the second time that morning Joses's luck deserted him.</p> + +<p>"I'll hold your pony," said a deep voice from behind.</p> + +<p>The fat man turned.</p> + +<p>Boy Woodburn stood behind him.</p> + +<p>Fresh from the sea, her hair in short, thick plaits of gold, dark and +wet and bare; with the eyes of a sword and the colour of an +apple-blossom; the brine upon her and the brown of wind and sun; in her +breeches, boots, and jersey, her big dog straining on his lead, she +looked like Diana turned post-boy.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said the young man, handing over his pony.</p> + +<p>Joses snorted.</p> + +<p>"Call yourself a woman!" he cried.</p> + +<p>"I'm all right," answered the girl, seating herself critically on a +mound, the pony in one hand, the dog in the other. "Don't hit him over +the heart," she advised out of some experience of race-course scraps. +"There might be trouble."</p> + +<p>"I sha'n't hit him at all," replied the young man. He seized the fat man +by the shoulder and spun him round. "I shall—<i>shake</i> him, and—<i>punt</i> +him."</p> + +<p>The girl did not know what punting meant, but it sounded good and was +not so bad to watch.</p> + +<p>Silver was applying his knee to his victim with precision and power. The +fat man's teeth seemed to rattle under the pounding shocks. The words +came joggling out of him, and they were not pretty words. He struck +backward with his arms and feet, wriggling to get his plump shoulders +free; but he was helpless as a baby in the arms of a nurse.</p> + +<p>Silver was strong. Joses was right in that if in nothing else.</p> + +<p>"He's killing me!" he gasped. "Fetch the coastguard!"</p> + +<p>"No, thank you," said the girl.</p> + +<p>The young man loosed his prey at last, and sent him spinning forward, +projecting him with a kick.</p> + +<p>Joses fell on his face, and stayed there fumbling, while he vomited +oaths.</p> + +<p>"Look out!" cried the girl sharply. "He's got a knife, and he'll use +it."</p> + +<p>She was right. Joses was busy with that wooden-handled sheath-knife of +his.</p> + +<p>Silver took a step forward.</p> + +<p>"Ah, then!—would you?" he scolded, and hit the other a tap over the +wrist with the handle of his hunting crop.</p> + +<p>Joses yelped and dropped the knife.</p> + +<p>Then he scrambled to his feet, wringing his hand.</p> + +<p>The brown of his face had turned a dirty livid.</p> + +<p>"I see what it is!" he cried. "Assignation. And I spoiled the +sport—what! You and the dandy toff.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;"><i>Him and me,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;"><i>Beside the sea.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><i>Quite</i> unintentional, I assure you!"</p> + +<p>He bowed, cackling horribly.</p> + +<p>Silver looked ugly.</p> + +<p>"Now then!" he said, and advanced a pace.</p> + +<p>The girl put a staying hand upon him; and the tout shambled away toward +the Gap, muttering to himself.</p> + +<p>Silver turned to his companion. He was breathing deep, but outwardly +unmoved.</p> + +<p>"Are you all right?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said. "He knocked Billy Bluff out, but he didn't touch me. +Hold your paw, Bill! It's nothing much. I shall put him on a wet bandage +soaked in borax when I get home."</p> + +<p>A sound of hand-clapping and hoarse laughter ascended to them from the +Gap.</p> + +<p>Joses had slipped Ragamuffin's reins over the post, and was clapping his +hands. Then he took up a pebble and threw it at the roan. The old pony +went off at a gallop and with trailing reins.</p> + +<p>Boy watched him calmly.</p> + +<p>"I should have thought of that," she said.</p> + +<p>Silver was starting off down the hill toward the mocking figure at the +mouth of the Gap; but the girl stopped him.</p> + +<p>"You get on and ride up the valley," she said. "Ragamuffin'll stop to +graze under the lighthouse; and you'll collar him there."</p> + +<p>Silver hesitated.</p> + +<p>"What about you?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I shall be all right," she answered. "I've got the legs of him."</p> + +<p>He mounted and went off at a canter, Billy Bluff pursuing him.</p> + +<p>The girl walked down toward the Gap, looking ridiculously slight in her +post-boy attire.</p> + +<p>Joses had disappeared.</p> + +<p>As she came to the mouth of the Gap and picked up her coat, her towel, +and the tackle she had thrown down, she saw him.</p> + +<p>He was standing in the Gap, between the white chalk walls, nursing his +hand.</p> + +<p>She was glad he was down there. He would be safe at least from Mr. +Silver.</p> + +<p>As she put on her coat she looked at him with calm, musing eyes. The +Spirit of Action was laid to sleep in her. In its place a Moving Dream, +welling up as it were out of Time into Eternity, possessed her slowly. +These Other-Conscious Moments, as Mr. Haggard called them, grew on the +girl with the growing years. She was aware of them in others—in her +mother, Mr. Haggard, her grand-dad—but hardly so in herself. They were +of her, yet beyond her—mysterious invasions from she knew not where, +gleams of Eden from exile. At these times she saw men as trees walking +and all created things as part and expression of a Huge Vague Life of +Wonder and Beauty without end.</p> + +<p>And now, as she looked at the man in the Gap she said with quiet +severity, as though addressing one of the lads at Bible Class:</p> + +<p>"You <i>are</i> a naughty boy."</p> + +<p>He glanced up at her from his earth.</p> + +<p>She saw his eyes, and the suffering in them, and recognised them with a +start. They were the eyes of a fox she had seen last season dug out of +an earth to the screams of men and halloos of women, after a long run, +that hounds might not be defrauded of blood.</p> + +<p>And she felt now as she had felt then. A passion of sympathy, a sea of +furious indignation, boiled up within her. Something pitifully forlorn +about the man struck her to the heart. Quite suddenly she felt sorry for +him; sorry with the sorrow that has sent heroes and saints throughout +the ages to persecution and death with joy, if only they may relieve by +ever so little the sufferings of sinful humanity.</p> + +<p>Boy Woodburn was not a saint and was not a hero; but she was on the way +to be a woman. The Voice that was not hers spoke out of her deeps.</p> + +<p>"Why did you do that?" she asked quietly.</p> + +<p>There was no anger in her tone or spirit; no sorrow, no surprise. She +was curiously impersonal.</p> + +<p>The fox showed his teeth.</p> + +<p>"I'll do worse than that yet," he said.</p> + +<p>The girl found herself gulping.</p> + +<p>She looked at him through shining eyes. And as she did so it came in +upon her that this degraded creature had once been beautiful. Ruin as he +was, there was still about him something tragic and forlorn as of a +great moor over which a beaten host has retreated, leaving desolation in +its wake.</p> + +<p>The man in the Gap wrung his wrist.</p> + +<p>The girl took a step toward him.</p> + +<p>"May I look at it?" she said.</p> + +<p>He glanced up at her again, much as glances a dog which has had a +licking and is uncertain whether the hand stretched out is that of an +enemy or a friend.</p> + +<p>"Likely," he snarled. "You'd bite."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII<br /> + +<span class="smcap">Two on the Downs</span></h4> + + +<p>Silver came trotting up with Ragamuffin trailing discontentedly behind.</p> + +<p>The old roan didn't really mind being caught, but he dearly loved to +pretend he did.</p> + +<p>Billy Bluff, who had already forgotten his injury, limped along behind, +busy and cheerful.</p> + +<p>Both man and dog had on their faces the same jolly grin of health and +happiness, the result of a sound conscience and still more a sound +digestion.</p> + +<p>"He didn't take much catching," said the young man. "And Billy Bluff +helped."</p> + +<p>Boy looked at her dog.</p> + +<p>"I saw him helping," she said sternly. "You old scoundrel, you!"</p> + +<p>The young dog lay on the ground and gnawed his wounded paw complacently. +He loved being scolded by his mistress when she was not too serious.</p> + +<p>The girl stuffed her towel and all it contained into the forage bag.</p> + +<p>"Shall I give you a leg up?" asked Silver.</p> + +<p>"It's all right," she answered.</p> + +<p>She mounted and rode alongside him.</p> + +<p>"Where's our friend?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Gone to earth."</p> + +<p>"What!—down the Gap?" He turned on her with that delightful eagerness +which constantly revealed him to her as a boy in spite of that plain, +grave face of his. "Shall I draw him?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head gravely.</p> + +<p>"Poor old thing," she said.</p> + +<p>He steadied instantly to her mood.</p> + +<p>"Are you sorry for him?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Boy looked away, shy and wary.</p> + +<p>"Sometimes," she said. "He must have had a pig's time to be so rotten as +that."</p> + +<p>It was a new view to the young man, and sobered him.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," he said doubtfully. He was thinking out the question in his +slow way. "It may be his own fault," he said. "You make yourself, I +think."</p> + +<p>"Part," answered the girl. "And part you are made by your surroundings. +That's the way with young stock anyhow. It's a bit how they are +bred—the blood in them; and part the food they get, and the air and +liberty and sun they're allowed."</p> + +<p>"I suppose so," said Silver quietly. "Certainly our friend's food don't +seem to have suited him."</p> + +<p>The girl refused to be amused.</p> + +<p>"He's come down," she said. "Mr. Haggard says he was once a gentleman."</p> + +<p>"Some time since, I should guess," replied Silver. "What!"</p> + +<p>They were moving along a narrow cart-track that led across a fallow. He +was riding behind her, his eyes on her back. The bathing cap had been +stuffed away, and her hair, still dark from the sea, was bare to the +sun.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you came," she said casually over her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"I was just out for a canter before going to look at the horses," he +answered.</p> + +<p>She nodded to where against the skyline a string of tall, thin-legged +black creatures, each with a blob of jockey on his back, paraded +solemnly against the sky.</p> + +<p>"See them!" she said. "On the Mare's Back." She watched them critically. +"That's Make-Way-There—No. 2 in the string. Now she's playing up." She +lifted her voice. "<i>Don't pull at her, you little goat!</i>"</p> + +<p>"They're going to gallop her this morning, I believe," said Silver. "You +hear Chukkers has let me down?"</p> + +<p>"No!" cried the girl keenly.</p> + +<p>"Yes; he wired last night to say he couldn't ride for me at Paris."</p> + +<p>If it was news to the girl, it was by no means unexpected, and she took +the blow with philosophical calm.</p> + +<p>"That was certain once he knew we were training for you," she said. "I +suppose dad's going to see who he'll give the ride to."</p> + +<p>"Shall we canter?" said the young man. "I don't want to miss it."</p> + +<p>"That's all right," replied the girl. "Father won't set 'em their work +till I come."</p> + +<p>It was clear she wished to keep him walking at her side, and he was +pleased.</p> + +<p>The incident on the cliff had brought them closer. For the first time +the young man felt the warmth of the girl breaking through the barriers +of her reserve. Her eyes, when they met his, were friendly, even +affectionate. It was his turn to be pleasantly shy.</p> + +<p>"D'you love them?" she asked.</p> + +<p>She felt somehow so much older than he that she was free to question +him.</p> + +<p>"The horses?" he asked. "<i>Rur-rather</i>," with that infectious enthusiasm +of his.</p> + +<p>"You've got some pretty good ones," she told him.</p> + +<p>"D'you think so?" keenly.</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>"Raw, but they'll come on. That's what you want."</p> + +<p>"Any up to National form?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Make-Way-There might be good enough in a season or two if she'll stay," +she said. "You can never tell. She's only four off."</p> + +<p>They began to breast the slope of the Mare's Back.</p> + +<p>"I've only had one real ambition in life," he said confidentially.</p> + +<p>She looked at him.</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"To win the Nun-National."</p> + +<p>She beamed on him friendly.</p> + +<p>"I used to have one," she said—"till last year: tremendously."</p> + +<p>"What's that?"</p> + +<p>"To ride the National winner."</p> + +<p>She peeped to see if he was mocking. He was sober as a judge.</p> + +<p>"You may yet."</p> + +<p>"Not now."</p> + +<p>"Why not?" he asked. "Because it's against the National Hunt Rules?"</p> + +<p>"Not that," she said with scorn. "I could get round their rotten rules +if I wanted."</p> + +<p>"How?" he asked.</p> + +<p>She glanced at him warily.</p> + +<p>"Eighteen months ago a lad came into our stable who was rather like me."</p> + +<p>He laughed merrily.</p> + +<p>"Good for you!" he cried. "Now put your idea into practise."</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"I don't want to win the National now."</p> + +<p>"Don't you?"</p> + +<p>She looked up into his face.</p> + +<p>"I'm too old," she said. "I've got to put my hair up this winter."</p> + +<p>The confidence once made frightened her.</p> + +<p>She broke into a canter, Heart of Oak striding at her side. The hill +steepened against them just under the brow, and they came back into a +walk.</p> + +<p>"If I was my own master I should farm and breed horses," said the young +man.</p> + +<p>She glanced at him keenly.</p> + +<p>"Aren't you your own master?"</p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I've got to stick to the desk."</p> + +<p>"D'you like it?"</p> + +<p>He looked away.</p> + +<p>"I shall never make a banker," he said. "You see, I'm no good at sums." +He flicked at the turf with his thong. "Now my father was a born +financier. He could do that—and nothing much else. If there are no +banks in heaven I'm afraid he'll be terribly bored. But I'm a farmer—or +a fool; I'm not quite sure which. If my father had lived it might have +been different. He might have entered me. But he died during my second +year at Oxford four years ago, and I had to buckle to and do the best I +could for myself."</p> + +<p>"Bad luck," said the girl.</p> + +<p>"It was, rather," admitted the young man. "But it gave me my head in +one way. You see, father didn't approve of horses, though he was a +farmer's son himself. He was afraid of the Turf. But he was always very +good to me. He let me hunt when I was a boy though he didn't like it." +The young man laughed. "But when I grew big he was awfully pleased. +'You'll never make a jockey now,' he used to say. And I never shall."</p> + +<p>Boy ran her eye approvingly over his loose, big-limbed figure.</p> + +<p>"You play polo, don't you?" she said.</p> + +<p>"I do, a bit," he admitted.</p> + +<p>"Back for England, isn't it?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"This old pony did," Silver answered. "And he used to take me along +sometimes."</p> + +<p>"Don't you play still?" she inquired.</p> + +<p>"I haven't this season, and I sha'n't again," he answered. "To play +first-class polo you must be in the top of condition. And they keep my +nose too close to the grindstone. Besides, pup-polo's very jolly, but +'chasing's the thing!"</p> + +<p>They topped the brow. The crest of the Downs swelled away before them +like a great green carpet lifted by the wind.</p> + +<p>"There they are!" cried Boy, beginning to canter.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX<br /> + +<span class="smcap">Cannibal's National</span></h4> + + +<p>Old Mat sat dumped in familiar attitude on a cob as full of corners and +character as himself.</p> + +<p>The trainer was thumping mechanically with his heels, sucking at the +knob of his ash-plant, his legs in trousers that had slipped up to show +his gray socks, and his feet shod with elastic-sided boots.</p> + +<p>He glanced shrewdly at the pair as they rode up.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, sir," he said, touching his hat. "So Chukkers has chucked +you."</p> + +<p>"So I believe," answered Silver.</p> + +<p>"I wep' a tear when they tell me. I did reelly," said the old man, +dabbing his eye. "He's goin' to ride Ikey's Jackaroo—that +donkey-coloured waler he brought home from Back o' Sunday. That's what +he's after."</p> + +<p>Silver nodded.</p> + +<p>"I'm not altogether sorry," he said quietly. "And I'm not entirely +surprised."</p> + +<p>"Nor ain't I," replied Mat, with faint irony. "Not altogether +somersaulted with surprise, as you might say. We knows Chukkers, and +Chukkers knows us—de we." He dropped his voice. "Monkey Brand'll tell +you a tale or two about his ole friend. You arst him one day when you +gets him on the go."</p> + +<p>He raised his voice and began to thump the air with his fist.</p> + +<p>"Rogues and rasqueals, Mr. Silver!" he cried in a kind of ecstasy. +"Emmin on you in—same as the Psalmist says. But we got to love 'em all +the same; else we'll nebber, nebber lead their liddle feet into the +way." He coughed, wiped the back of his hand apologetically across his +lips, and ended dryly: "Not the Three J's anyway!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The horses were walking round the little group. Tall, sheeted +thoroughbreds, each with his lad perched like a bird on his back, they +swung daintily over the turf, blowing their noses, swishing their long +tails, miracles of strength and beauty.</p> + +<p>Monkey Brand led them on Goosey Gander, bandaged to the knees and hocks. +Albert followed him on Make-Way-There, a pretty bay, with a white star. +The lad's lips were turned in, and his face was stiff with aspiration +and desire. That morning he hoped to have his chance, and he purposed to +make the most of it. Jerry, the economist with the corrugated brow, +followed him on a snake-necked chestnut. He sat up aloft, his shoulders +square, his little legs clipping his mount, a Napoleon of the saddle, +pondering apparently the great things of life and death. In fact, he was +cogitating whether if he smoked behind the Lads' Barn at nights it was +likely that he would be caught out by Miss Boy. Next came Stanley, the +stupid, surreptitiously nagging at the flashy black he rode. Young +Stanley was in evil mood, and he meant his horse to know it. His dark +and heavy face was full of injured dignity and spite. Last night +Chukkers, just back from winning the Australian National, had wired to +say he couldn't keep his engagement to ride Make-Way-There at Paris. +Monkey Brand would not ride, as his leg had been troubling him again; +and Jerry had it that Albert, who was Make-Way-There's lad, was to get +the mount. Stanley resented the suggestion. Albert had never yet ridden +in public, while he, Stanley, had sported silk half-a-dozen times and +had won over the sticks.</p> + +<p>"Pull out, Brand," grunted the old trainer.</p> + +<p>The little jockey yielded the lead to Albert, and joined the group of +watchers.</p> + +<p>The lads continued their patrol.</p> + +<p>"What's the going like on the top there, Brand?" asked the old man.</p> + +<p>"Not so bad, sir," the other answered. "Tidy drop o dew, I reck'n."</p> + +<p>Make-Way-There, now she had the lead, showed a tendency to swagger. She +bounced and tossed. The fair lad, swaying to the motions of his horse, +rode the fretting creature patiently and well.</p> + +<p>"She's a bit okkud yet," said Monkey, watching critically. "<i>Woa, my +lady. Woa then.</i>"</p> + +<p>"It's the condition comin' out of her," muttered Mat. "She's all of a +bubble. Fret herself into a sweat. Boy, you'd better take her. Send her +along five furlongs smart and bustle her a bit as she comes up the +slope."</p> + +<p>"No," said the girl.</p> + +<p>The old man threw a swift glance at her.</p> + +<p>Boy had stuck her toes in again. He knew all the symptoms of old and +made no effort to overcome them. She was growing into a woman, Boy was. +That was the young man. A while back she cared not a rap for all the men +in creation.</p> + +<p>The old man made a mental note for reference to Ma.</p> + +<p>"Albert can ride her," said the girl. "I want to see if he's coming on."</p> + +<p>Jerry, the true prophet, winked; Stanley jobbed the black in the mouth +and kicked him; Albert, his face firm and important, drew out. He had at +least one of the qualities of a jockey—supreme self-confidence.</p> + +<p>"Take her along at three-quarter speed till you get round them +goss-bushes," growled Old Mat. "And when you feel the hill against you +shove her for a furlong. Don't ride her out. And no fancy pranks, mind."</p> + +<p>"And sit still," said the girl.</p> + +<p>"Jerry, you take him along," continued the trainer.</p> + +<p>The lads made sundry guttural noises in their throats, leaned forward as +though to whisper in their horses' ears, and stole easily away.</p> + +<p>A flash of swift feet, a diminishing thunder of hooves, and the pair +made a broad sweep round the gorse-clump and came racing home.</p> + +<p>Once the girl spoke.</p> + +<p>"Keep your hands quiet," she ordered deeply.</p> + +<p>Opposite them Jerry took a pull, but Albert and the mare went thundering +past the watching group, the lad's fair head bowed over his horse's +withers. He had her fairly extended, yet going well within herself, her +head tucked into her chest.</p> + +<p>On the ridge behind them he steadied to a walk, jumped off, and led the +mare, breathing deep and flinging the foam abroad, down to the party.</p> + +<p>"That's a little bit o' better," muttered the old man. "She can slip it. +That lad'll ride yet, Boy."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps; but don't tell him so," said the girl sharply.</p> + +<p>She walked her pony across to the lad, and laid her hand on the mare's +wet neck.</p> + +<p>"That's a little better to-day, Albert," she said. "But you ought to +steady a bit before you come."</p> + +<p>The boy touched his cap and rode arrogantly on to join the other lads.</p> + +<p>Monkey Brand saw the look upon his face.</p> + +<p>"Once you knows you know nothin', you may learn somethin'," he said +confidentially as the lad passed him. Then he turned with a wink to +Silver and said <i>sotto-voce</i>: "They calls him Boysie when he's crossed +'em. See he apes Miss Boy. He features her a bit, and he knows it. She's +teaching him to ride, and he's picked up some of her tricks. Course he +ain't got her way with 'em. But he might make a tidy little 'orseman one +o' these days, as I tells him, if so be he was to tumble on his head a +nice few times and get the conceit knocked out of him."</p> + +<p>The lads continued their patrol.</p> + +<p>Their knees were to their chins, and their hands thrust in front of +them, a rein in each, almost as though they were about to pound a big +drum with their fists.</p> + +<p>Monkey nodded at them.</p> + +<p>"She rides long, Miss Boy do—old style, cavalry style, same as you +yourself, sir. They've all got the monkey-up-a-stick seat."</p> + +<p>"Don't you believe in it?" asked the young man.</p> + +<p>The other shook his head. He was himself a beautiful horseman of the Tom +Cannon school; too beautiful, his critics sometimes said, to be entirely +effective.</p> + +<p>"Not for 'chasin," he said. "You can't lift a horse and squeeze him, +unless you've got your legs curled right away round him. They ain't +jockeys, as I tells 'em. They rides like poodle-dogs at a circus. There +ought to be paper-'oops for em to jump through. No, sir. It may be +Chukkers, as I says, but it ain't 'orsemanship."</p> + +<p>The young man angled for the story that was waiting to be caught.</p> + +<p>"Yet Chukkers wins," he said. "He's headed the list for five seasons +now."</p> + +<p>"He wins," said Monkey grimly. "Them as has rode against him knows 'ow."</p> + +<p>Silver edged his pony up along the other.</p> + +<p>"You've ridden against him?" he inquired with cunning innocence.</p> + +<p>The little jockey's eyes became dreamy.</p> + +<p>"My ole pal Chukkers," he mused. "Him and me. Yes, I've rode agin' him +twenty year now. He was twelve first time we met, and I was turned +twenty. The Mexican Kid they called him in them days. Kid he was; but +wise to the world?—not 'alf!" ...</p> + +<p>"Was that his first race?" asked Silver.</p> + +<p>"It was so, sir—this side. Ikey'd just brought him across the Puddle to +ride that Austrian mare, Laria Louisa. Same old stunt it was then as +now—<i>Down the Englishman, don't matter how.</i> Yes, it was my first smell +of the star-spangled jacket."</p> + +<p>"Was that when you got your leg?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir. That was eight years later. Boomerang's year. He was the first +waler Ikey brought over this side to do the trick. My! he were a proper +great 'orse, too. I was riding Chittabob—like a pony alongside him. At +the Canal Turn Chukkers ran me onto the rails." He told the tale slowly, +rolling it in the mouth, as it were. "Chukkers went on by himself. +Nobody near him. Thought he'd done it that time. Only where it was +Boomerang snap his leg at the last fence. Yes, sir," mystically, +"there's One above all right—sometimes, 'tall events."</p> + +<p>"And you?" said Silver.</p> + +<p>The little jockey thrust out his left leg.</p> + +<p>"I was in 'orspital three months.... Howsomever, it come out in the wash +next year."</p> + +<p>"That was Cannibal's year, wasn't it?" asked Silver.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said Monkey. "Cannibal!—his name and his nature, too. He was a +man-eater, that 'orse was. Look like a camel and lep like a +h'earthquake. It was just the very reverse that year. Chukkers was on +Jezebel, Chukkers was. She was a varmint little thing enough—Syrian +bred, I have 'eard 'em say. And he was out to win all right that +journey. There was only us two in it when we come to Beecher's Brook +second time round." He came a little closer. "So when we got to the +Canal Turn I rides up alongside. 'That you, Mr. Childers?' I says, and +bumps him. That shifted him for Valentine's Brook. There's a tidy drop +there, sir, as you may remember. Chukkers lost his stirrup, and was +crawling about on her withers. I hove up alongside agin'. He saw me +comin' and made a shockin' face. 'Clear!' he screams, 'or I'll welt you +across the —— monkey mug!' And just then, blest if old Cannibal didn't +make another mistake and cannon into him agin'. That spilt him proper! +Oh, my, Mr. Silver!—my! And I sail 'ome alone. Oh, he was a reg'lar +outrageous 'orse, Cannibal was." He dropped his voice. "When he come out +of 'orspital of course he made a fuss about it, he and Jaggers and +Jew-boy Aaronsohnn. But of course I knew nothin' about it; nor did +nobody else. See, they all knew Chukkers. He'd tried it on 'em all one +time or another. And I told the Stewards I was very sorry the fall had +gone to 'is 'ead. Only little Bertie Butler—him with the squint, what +won the Sefton this year, you know—who'd been following Chukkers—he +says to me: 'Next time you're goin' to play billiards with Chukkers, Mr. +Brand, tip us the wink, will you?'"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX<br /> + +<span class="smcap">The Paddock Close</span></h4> + + +<p>The girl's voice broke in on them.</p> + +<p>"I'm going home now," she cried abruptly.</p> + +<p>"Right," answered Silver. "May I come along?"</p> + +<p>As he swung round, he saw the girl already jogging away. He pursued +leisurely, anxious to talk about Make-Way-There, the Paris Meeting, and +Chukkers and Monkey Brand's gossip. But she flitted away in front of +him. As he drew up to her she broke into a canter, and the young man +took a pull.</p> + +<p>His intuitions, like those of most slow-brained men, were unusually +swift and sure. It was as though Nature, the Dispenser of Justice, to +compensate him for an apparent dearth in one direction, had endowed him +richly in another.</p> + +<p>"Woa, my little lad, woa then!" he murmured as Heart of Oak bounced and +fretted to catch the retreating roan.</p> + +<p>He realised that the girl had withdrawn within herself again. On the +cliff, in the excitement of action, she had forgotten herself for the +moment. Now she was cold and shy once more, retreating behind her +barriers, closing her visor. It was as though she had admitted him too +close; and to recover herself must now swing to the other extreme.</p> + +<p>Obedient to her will, he kept several lengths behind her. When she found +he did not draw up alongside, she slackened her pace. He felt her +resistance was dying down in answer to his non-resistance. She was +shoving against emptiness, and getting no good from it.</p> + +<p>As they came to the crest of the Downs and began the descent of the +hill, Boy dropped into a walk.</p> + +<p>Below them the long roofs of Putnam's showed, weathered among the +sycamores.</p> + +<p>As the girl passed into the Paddock Close he was riding at her side +again.</p> + +<p>The Paddock Close was a vast enclosure, fenced off from the Downs, an +ideal nursery and galloping ground for young stock.</p> + +<p>There was hill and valley; here and there a group of trees for shade in +the dog-days; a great sheltered bottom fringed by a wood that ran out +into the Close like a peninsula; and the wall of the Downs to give +protection from the east.</p> + +<p>As they walked together down the hill, Boy was looking about her.</p> + +<p>"Where's the mare?" she asked.</p> + +<p>They were the first words she had spoken.</p> + +<p>"Which mare?" asked Silver</p> + +<p>"Four Pound."</p> + +<p>He glanced round. The young stock were standing lazily under the trees, +swishing their tails, and stamping off the flies. But the old mare had +forsaken her usual haunt.</p> + +<p>Then far away on the edge of a bed of bracken in the bottom, something +like a piece of brown paper caught his eye. It rose and fell and flapped +in the wind.</p> + +<p>Boy saw it, too, and darted off.</p> + +<p>"Call Billy Bluff!" she cried over her shoulder; but Billy had already +trotted off to the yard to renew the pleasant task of tormenting Maudie +and the fan-tails.</p> + +<p>The girl made at a canter for the brown paper struggling on the edge of +the bracken.</p> + +<p>As she came closer she raised a swift hand to steady the man pounding +behind her.</p> + +<p>The brown paper was a new-born foal, woolly, dun of hue, swaying on +uncertain legs. The little creature, with the mane and tail of a toy +horse, looking supremely pathetic in its helplessness, wavered +ridiculously in the wind. It was all knees and hocks, and fluffy tail +that wriggled, and jelly-like eyes. Its tall, thin legs were stuck out +before and behind like those of a wooden horse. It stood like one dazed, +staring blankly before it, absorbed in the new and surprising action of +drawing breath through widespread nostrils; quavered and then collapsed, +only to attempt to climb to its feet again.</p> + +<p>Close beside her child lay the mother, her neck extended along the +green, her eyes blood-shot.</p> + +<p>As the girl rode up, the old mare raised her gaunt, well-bred head and +snorted, but made no effort to rise.</p> + +<p>Boy dismounted.</p> + +<p>"Hold Ragamuffin, will you?" she said.</p> + +<p>Silver, himself dismounted now, obeyed.</p> + +<p>Boy knelt in the bracken and felt the mare's heart.</p> + +<p>The young man stood some distance off and watched her.</p> + +<p>"Pretty bad, isn't she?" he said gravely.</p> + +<p>"Go and tell mother, please," replied the girl, still on her knees. "And +send one of the lads with a rug and a wheelbarrow."</p> + +<p>The young man walked away down the hillside, leading the two ponies.</p> + +<p>Left alone, Boy brushed away the flies that had settled in black clouds +on the mare's face. The foal repeated its ungainly efforts, whimpering +in a deep and muffled voice, like the wind in a cave. The urge of hunger +was on it, and it did not understand why it was not satisfied. Boy went +to it, and thrust her thumbs into its soft and toothless mouth. The +foal, entirely unafraid, sucked with quivering tail and such power that +the girl thought her thumbs would be drawn off. The old mare whinnied, +jealous, perhaps, of her usurped function.</p> + +<p>In another moment Mrs. Woodburn's tall and stately form came through the +gate and laboured up the hill. She was wearing a white apron and carried +a sheet in her hand.</p> + +<p>Soon she stood beside her daughter, breathing deeply, and looking down +upon the mare.</p> + +<p>"Bad job, Boy," she said.</p> + +<p>"Have you brought a thermometer?" asked the girl.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Woodburn nodded, and inserted the instrument under the old mare's +elbow, laying an experienced hand on her muzzle.</p> + +<p>"If she'd make an effort," she said in her slow way. "But she can't be +bothered. That's Black Death."</p> + +<p>Silver, looking ridiculously elegant in his shirt-sleeves and spotless +breeches, came up the hill toward them, trundling a dingy stable barrow. +Behind him trotted a lad, trailing a rug.</p> + +<p>"We must just let her bide," said Mrs. Woodburn. "Lay that sheet over +her, George, to keep the flies off, and get a handful of sweet hay and +put it under her nose to peck at it. You've brought the barrow, Mr. +Silver. Thank you."</p> + +<p>"Can you lift the foal in?" asked Boy.</p> + +<p>"I guess," answered the young man, stripping up sleeves in which the +gold links shone.</p> + +<p>"Oh! your poor clothes!" cried Mrs. Woodburn. "Whatever would your +mother say? Put on my apron, do."</p> + +<p>The young man obeyed, gravely and without a touch of self-consciousness, +binding the apron about his waist; and to Boy at least he appeared, so +clad, something quite other than ludicrous.</p> + +<p>"Can you manage it, d'you think?" she asked in her serious way.</p> + +<p>"I guess," answered the young man.</p> + +<p>He blew elaborately on his hands, made belief to lick them, and bowed +his back to the lifting. There were no weak spots in that young body. It +was good all through.</p> + +<p>Strong as he was tender, he gathered the little creature. A moment it +sprawled helplessly in his arms, all legs and head. Then he bundled it +into the barrow.</p> + +<p>The old mare whinnied.</p> + +<p>"Put the rug over her head so she can't see," said Mrs. Woodburn.</p> + +<p>The foal stood a moment in the barrow, then it collapsed, lying like a +calf with a woolly tail, its long legs projecting over the side.</p> + +<p>Silver grasped the handles of the barrow.</p> + +<p>"Is it all right?" asked Boy.</p> + +<p>"I guess," replied the young man, and trundled his load away down the +hill.</p> + +<p>The girl walked beside the barrow, one hand steadying the foal, who +reared an uncanny head.</p> + +<p>They passed through the yard, jolted noisily over the cobbles, and +turned into a great cool loose-box, deep in moss-litter.</p> + +<p>"I'll go and get the bottle," said the girl. "George, just run and bring +a couple of armfuls of litter-grass off the stack and pile it in that +corner."</p> + +<p>When she returned with the bottle, the barrow was empty, and the foal +lay quiet on a heap of brown grass in the corner.</p> + +<p>It whinnied and essayed to stand.</p> + +<p>"It's coming, honey," said Boy in her deep, comforting voice.</p> + +<p>The foal sucked greedily and with quivering tail.</p> + +<p>From outside in the yard came the pleasant clatter of horses' feet on +the cobbles.</p> + +<p>The string was returning.</p> + +<p>In another moment Old Mat was standing in the door of the loose-box, +grunting to himself, as he watched the little group within.</p> + +<p>Boy, in her long riding-coat, stood in the dim loose-box, her fair hair +shining, tilting the bottle, while the foal, with lifted head and +ecstatic tail, sucked.</p> + +<p>Silver, still in his shirt-sleeves, watched with folded arms.</p> + +<p>"Colt foal I see," grunted the old man. "That's a little bit o' better. +Four-Pound-the-Second, I suppose you'll call him."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="BOOK_III" id="BOOK_III"></a>BOOK III<br /> + +SILVER MUG</h4> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI<br /> + +<span class="smcap">The Berserker Colt</span></h4> + + +<p>On the morning that Make-Way-There had done his gallop Old Mat had noted +that a change was coming over Boy.</p> + +<p>She was ceasing to be a child, and was becoming a woman.</p> + +<p>He mentioned it to Ma.</p> + +<p>"Time she did," said the mother quietly. "She'll be seventeen in March."</p> + +<p>The girl herself was aware of strange happenings within her. More, she +knew that the tall young man was responsible for them.</p> + +<p>A great new life, full of shadows and delicious dangers, was surging up +in her heart, sweeping across the sands of her childhood, obliterating +tide-marks, swinging her off her feet, and carrying her forward under +bare stars toward the Unknown.</p> + +<p>She fought against the invasion of this Sea, struggling to find footing +on the familiar bottom.</p> + +<p>That Sea and Mr. Silver were intimately connected. Sometimes, indeed, +the girl could not distinguish one from the other. Was it the Sea which +bore Mr. Silver in upon her resisting mind?—or was it Mr. Silver who +trailed the Sea after him like a cloud?</p> + +<p>Her helplessness angered and humiliated her. She fought fiercely and in +vain. That strong will of hers, which had never yet met its match, was +impotent now. This Thing, this Sea, this Man, crept in upon her like a +mist, invading her very sanctuaries.</p> + +<p>She might close the doors and lock them—to no purpose.</p> + +<p>She was angry, excited, not entirely displeased.</p> + +<p>The change wrought in her swiftly. At least she had the sense that she +was embarking on a great adventure; and her romantic spirit answered to +the appeal.</p> + +<p>She became quieter and passed much time in her room alone.</p> + +<p>Mr. Silver kept knocking at the door in the loft which he had never +entered; but she refused to open to him.</p> + +<p>To revenge herself she practised small brutalities upon him, which had +no effect. He just withdrew and came again next day with his big-dog +smile, quiet and persistent as a tide. Shy he was, and singularly +pertinacious.</p> + +<p>Then his mother died.</p> + +<p>That seemed to Boy unfair; but as she reasoned it out he could hardly be +held responsible.</p> + +<p>They knew all about it at Putnam's, because there was a paragraph in the +paper about Brazil Silver's widow.</p> + +<p>The young man buried his mother on Friday, and on Saturday came down to +Putnam's for his usual week-end.</p> + +<p>Boy asked her mother if he had spoken to her about his trouble.</p> + +<p>"No," said Mrs. Woodburn.</p> + +<p>"Then he shall to me," said the girl, with determination.</p> + +<p>He should not bottle up his grief. That would be bad for him. The +mother in the girl was emerging from the tom-boy very fast.</p> + +<p>On Sunday evening she took him for a ride, and had her way, without a +struggle.</p> + +<p>As they breasted the hill together, the young man told her all at some +length.</p> + +<p>"Was she much to you?" asked the girl keenly.</p> + +<p>Her own mother was all the world to her.</p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Oh! that's all right," replied the girl, relieved and yet resentful, +"if you didn't care."</p> + +<p>"In some ways I'm glad for her sake," continued the young man. "She was +always unhappy. You see she was ambitious. One of the disappointments of +her life was that my father wouldn't take a peerage."</p> + +<p>"Can't you be happy and ambitious?" asked Boy, peeping at him in the +wary way he loved.</p> + +<p>Jim Silver laughed and flicked his whip.</p> + +<p>"I doubt it," he said.</p> + +<p>"Aren't you ambitious?" she inquired.</p> + +<p>He laughed his deep, tremendous laughter, turning on her the face she so +rejoiced in.</p> + +<p>"I've told you my one ambition."</p> + +<p>"What's that?"</p> + +<p>"To breed a National winner."</p> + +<p>That brought them back to their favourite subject—Four-Pound-the-Second +and his future.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The foal kept the girl busy, for the old mare died, and Boy had to bring +up the little creature by hand. She didn't mind that, for the summer is +the slack season in the jumping world. Moreover, trouble taken for +helpless young things was never anything but a delight to her. And +fortune favoured her. For the Queen of Sheba, one of her nanny-goats, +had lost her kids, and the milk was therefore available for the foal.</p> + +<p>Boy fed him herself by day and night, sleeping in his loose-box for the +first few weeks, she and Billy Bluff, who promised to be good. Monkey +Brand, who had neither wife nor child of his own, and loved the girl +with the doting passion of a nurse, wanted to share her watch, but his +aid was abruptly refused. So the little jockey slept in the loft +instead, to be near at hand, and would bring the girl a cup of tea after +her vigil.</p> + +<p>Once, in his mysterious way, he beckoned Silver to follow him. The young +man pursued him up the ladder, treading, of course, on Maudie, who made +the night hideous with her protests.</p> + +<p>Up there in the darkness of the loft the little man stole with the +motions of a conspirator to a far trap-door. He opened it gingerly and +listened. From beneath came the sound of regular breathing. Thrusting +his lantern through the dark hole, he beckoned to Silver, who looked +down.</p> + +<p>In a corner of the loose-box, on a pile of horse rugs, slept Boy, her +mass of hair untamed now and spreading abroad like a fan of gold. Beside +her on the moss-litter lay Billy Bluff, curled and dreaming of the +chase. And on a bed of bracken by the manger, his long legs tied up in +knots, was the foal.</p> + +<p>Silver peeped and instantly withdrew as one who has trespassed +innocently.</p> + +<p>"Pretty as a pictur, ain't it?" whispered the little jockey. "Only don't +go for to say I give her away. That'd be the end of Monkey Brand, that +would."</p> + +<p>He swung the lantern so that the light flashed on the face of the +sleeping girl.</p> + +<p>"That'll do," muttered the young man uneasily. "You'll wake her."</p> + +<p>"No, sir. She's fast," the other answered. "Fair wore out. He wouldn't +take the bottle yesterday, and she was up with him all night. I went +down to her when it come light. Only where it is she won't allow nobody +to do nothin' for him only herself." He stole back to his lair in the +straw at the far end of the loft. "That's the woman in her, sir," he +said in his sagacious way. "Must have her baby all to herself. Nobody +don't know nothin' about it only mother."</p> + +<p>Four-Pound-the-Second after the first few perilous weeks throve +amazingly. He ceased to be a pretty creature, pathetic in his +helplessness, and grew into a gawky hobbledehoy, rough and rude and +turbulent.</p> + +<p>Old Mat shook his head over the colt.</p> + +<p>"Ugliest critter I ever set eyes on," he said, partly in earnest and +partly to tease his daughter.</p> + +<p>"You'll see," said Boy firmly.</p> + +<p>"If he's a Berserk he's worth saving, surely," remarked Silver. +"Berserker—Black Death. Ought to be able to hop a bit."</p> + +<p>Everybody at Putnam's knew that the colt was the son of that famous +sire, but nobody, except Mat Woodburn and Monkey Brand, knew how they +knew it.</p> + +<p>"Oh! if he's going to win the National—as I think he is, de we—he's +worth a little trouble," replied the old man, winking at Monkey Brand.</p> + +<p>"D'you think he'll win the National?" cried the young man, simple as a +child.</p> + +<p>"Certain for sure," replied the other. "When 'e walks on to the course +all the other hosses'll have a fit and fall down flat. And I don't blame +'em, neether."</p> + +<p>"Father <i>thinks</i> he's funny," said the girl with fine irony.</p> + +<p>"I ain't 'alf so funny as that young billy-goat o' yours, my dear," +replied the old trainer, and lilted on his way. "It's his foster-ma he +takes after. The spit of her, he be."</p> + +<p>As soon as the foal began to find his legs Boy took him out into the +Paddock Close, and later on to the Downs. He followed like a dog, +skirmishing with Billy Bluff up and down the great rounded hills.</p> + +<p>The bob-tail at first was inclined to be jealous. He thought the foal +was a new kind of dog and a rival. Then when he understood that after +all the little creature was only an animal, on a different and a lower +plane, to be patronised and bullied and ragged, he resumed his +self-complacency. Thoroughly human, a vulgar sense of superiority kept +his temper sweet. He accepted Four-Pound-the-Second as one to whom he +might extend his patronage and his protection. And once this was +understood the relations between the foal and the dog were established +on a sound basis, while Maudie watched with a sardonic smile.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>That autumn the girl, the foal, and the dog roamed the hillside by the +hour together in the cool of dawn and evening. And the colt became as +handy as the goat he was alleged by his detractors to resemble.</p> + +<p>"Go anywhere Billy Bluff does," said Monkey Brand. "Climb the ladder to +the loft soon as look at you."</p> + +<p>On these frequent excursions Boy took her hunting-crop with her, and the +long-flung lash often went curling round the legs of the unruly foal. +Early she broke him to halter, and when he became too turbulent for +unbridled liberty she took him out on a long lounging rein.</p> + +<p>The Downs about Cuckmere, which lies half-way between Lewes and Beachy +Head, are lonely. Apart from shepherds, you seldom meet on them anyone +save a horseman or a watcher. But more than once the three came on Joses +on the hillside.</p> + +<p>Since the moment she had marked him cowering in the Gap like a hunted +creature, Boy had seen the tout with quite other eyes than of old. Never +afraid of him, from that time her aversion had turned to pity for one so +hopelessly forlorn.</p> + +<p>Whether Joses felt the change or not, and reacted to it unconsciously, +it was impossible to say. Certainly he showed himself friendly, she +thought, almost ashamed. At first she was not unnaturally suspicious, +but soon the compassion in her heart overcame all else.</p> + +<p>One brilliant September evening she came upon him on the Mare's Back.</p> + +<p>The fat man pulled off his hat shyly.</p> + +<p>"You've put him on the chain, I see," he said, referring to the long +rein.</p> + +<p>Boy stopped.</p> + +<p>His face was less bloated, his appearance more tidy than of old. It was +clear he had been drinking less.</p> + +<p>"What d'you think of him?" she asked.</p> + +<p>The tout threw a critical eye over the foal. There was no question that +Joses knew a thing or two about a horse.</p> + +<p>"Ugly but likely," he said, with the deliberate air of a connoisseur. +"What they call in France a <i>beau laid</i>."</p> + +<p>The girl demurred to the proposition. Her foal was <i>not</i> bow-legged.</p> + +<p>"His legs are all right," she said, somewhat tartly. "He's a bit <i>on</i> +the leg; but he's sure to be at that age."</p> + +<p>"How's he bred, d'you know?" asked the other thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>Boy was on the alert in a moment. That was a stable secret, and not to +be disclosed.</p> + +<p>"I'm not <i>quite</i> sure," she answered truthfully. "We picked up the dam +from a gypsy."</p> + +<p>The fat man nodded. He seemed to know all about it. Indeed, it was his +business to know all about such things.</p> + +<p>"She was a Black Death mare, that, no question," he said, and added +slowly, his eye wandering over the colt: "Looks to me like a Berserk +somehow." She had a feeling he was drawing her, and kept her face +inscrutable in a way that did credit to the teaching of Monkey Brand. +"If so, you've drawn a lucky number," continued the other. "Such things +happen, you know."</p> + +<p>Boy moved on, and was aware that he was following her.</p> + +<p>She turned and saw his face.</p> + +<p>There was no mischief in the man, and fluttering in his eyes there was +that look of a hunted animal she had noticed in the Gap.</p> + +<p>She stopped at once.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Mr. Joses?" she asked.</p> + +<p>She felt that he was calling to her for help.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, Miss Woodburn," he began.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mr. Joses."</p> + +<p>Her deep voice was soft and encouraging as when she spoke to a sick +creature or a child. Those who knew only the resolute girl, who went her +own way with an almost fierce determination, would have been astonished +at her tenderness.</p> + +<p>"That little mistake of mine on the cliff," muttered the man.</p> + +<p>A great impulse of generosity flooded the girl's heart and coloured her +cheek.</p> + +<p>"That's <i>quite</i> all right," she said.</p> + +<p>It was clear he was not satisfied.</p> + +<p>His eyes wandered over heaven and earth, never meeting hers.</p> + +<p>"You've not said anything to the police about that?"</p> + +<p>"No!" she cried.</p> + +<p>"Nor that gentleman?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Silver?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"I'm <i>sure</i> he hasn't."</p> + +<p>The other drew a deep breath.</p> + +<p>"It wouldn't help me any if he had," he said.</p> + +<p>He looked up into the deep sky, that was gathering the dusk, and still +alive with the song of larks. "I wouldn't like to see 'em in a cage," he +said quietly. "It wasn't meant. Never!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Next Saturday, when Mr. Silver came down, she told him of the incident.</p> + +<p>"You didn't say anything to the police, did you?" she asked anxiously.</p> + +<p>"No," he said. "I meant to, but I forgot."</p> + +<p>She repeated Joses's remark about the cage.</p> + +<p>"He's been in the cage," she said quietly.</p> + +<p>"Are you sure?" he asked.</p> + +<p>She nodded with set lips.</p> + +<p>"How d'you know?"</p> + +<p>"I saw it in his eyes."</p> + +<p>The young man was genuinely moved.</p> + +<p>"Poor beggar!" he said.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII<br /> + +<span class="smcap">Ragamuffin</span></h4> + + +<p>The little affair of Joses was one of the many trifles that made for +intimacy between the young man and the girl.</p> + +<p>In spite of herself Boy found her opposition dying away. Indeed, she +could no more resist him than she could resist the elements. She might +put her umbrella up, but that did not stop the rain. And if the rain +chose to go on long enough, the umbrella would wear away. The choice lay +with the rain and not with the umbrella.</p> + +<p>By the autumn Boy had ceased even to pretend to be unfriendly. It was no +use, and she was never much good at pretending.</p> + +<p>Then with the fall of the leaves old Ragamuffin began to tumble to +pieces.</p> + +<p>She watched him closely for a week. Then one October dawn, the mists +hanging white in the hollows, she led him out to the edge of the wood +before the lads were about. Only Monkey Brand accompanied her.</p> + +<p>Herself she held the old pony alongside the new-dug grave, talking to +him, stroking his nose. Monkey Brand, of the steady hand and loving +heart, did the rest. A quarter of an hour later the girl and the little +jockey came back to the yard alone. She was carrying a halter in her +hand and talking of Four-Pound-the-Second.</p> + +<p>The lads watched her surreptitiously and with brimming eyes. Albert, who +prided himself on the hardness of his heart, wept and swore he hadn't.</p> + +<p>"I'll lay she feels it," blubbered Stanley, who was not clever enough to +conceal his tears.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>When Silver came down for the week-end, Old Mat told him what had +happened.</p> + +<p>"That's the strength in her," he whispered. "Just took and did it, she +and Monkey Brand. Never a word to her mother or me—before or since."</p> + +<p>But the young man noticed that the girl looked haggard, wistful, more +spiritual than usual. He was shy of her, and she of him.</p> + +<p>When that evening she met him in the yard and said, "Will you come and +see?" he was amazed and touched.</p> + +<p>They stood together by the new-made grave under the wood. Jim was far +more moved than when his mother died.</p> + +<p>"Dear old Ragamuffin!" he said.</p> + +<p>She seemed to quaver in the dusk.</p> + +<p>"You mustn't," she said, in strained and muffled voice, and for a moment +laid a finger on his arm.</p> + +<p>Next day, as they were making their Sunday round of the horses together, +Silver stopped at Heart of Oak's box.</p> + +<p>"I don't quite know what to be at with this poor old cormorant," he +said, slow and cogitating. "I'm looking for a home for him. But there +are no bidders. A bit too good a doer, I guess. Eat 'em out of hearth +and home."</p> + +<p>The girl's eyes flashed on his face and away again.</p> + +<p>"He's not old," she said, as her hand stroked the pony's neck.</p> + +<p>"Well, he's like me," the young man replied. "He's older than he was."</p> + +<p>Boy made a cursory inspection of the pony's mouth.</p> + +<p>"Eleven off," she said.</p> + +<p>"That's too old to play polo."</p> + +<p>She believed it to be a lie, but she did not think she was sufficient an +authority on the game to justify her in saying so.</p> + +<p>"Anyway, I'm getting too heavy for him," Silver went on. "Joint too big +for the dish, as they say. That fellow's more my sort, ain't you, old +lad?" He nodded to the next loose-box, where his seventeen-hand hunter, +Banjo, stood, blowing at them through the bars. "What Heart of Oak wants +is a nice light weight just to hack him about the Downs and ease him +down into the grave."</p> + +<p>That evening after supper Jim Silver sang.</p> + +<p>Apart from the members of the Eton Mission Clubs there were perhaps a +dozen men in the world—Eton men all, boating men most—who knew that he +did "perform," to use their expression; and just two women—Boy Woodburn +and her mother. Old Mat, to be sure, did not count, for he always slept +through the "performance."</p> + +<p>The young man's repertoire consisted of two songs—<i>The Place Where the +Old Horse Died</i> and <i>My Old Dutch</i>.</p> + +<p>With a good natural voice, entirely untrained, he sang with a deep and +quiet feeling that made his friends affirm that once you had heard +Silver Mug's—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;"><i>We've been together now for forty years,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;"><i>And it don't seem a day too much,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;"><i>There ain't a lady livin' in the land</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;"><i>As I'd swop for my dear old Dutch.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p>you would never listen to Albert Chevalier again.</p> + +<p>That, of course, was the just and admirable exaggeration of youth and +friendship.</p> + +<p>But it was the fact that always after the young man had sung there was +an unusually prolonged silence, and, as Amersham once said, you felt as +if you were in church.</p> + +<p>This evening, after he had finished, and Mrs. Woodburn had broken the +silence with her quiet "Thank you," the young man returned to the +subject he had broached in the stable.</p> + +<p>Silver indeed was nothing if not dogged, as the girl was beginning to +find out.</p> + +<p>"I say, Miss Woodburn," he began in that casual way of his, "I wish +you'd take charge of that old yellow moke o' mine."</p> + +<p>Boy shook her head.</p> + +<p>He laughed and drew his chair beside her as she worked. Not seldom now +he doffed the Puritan with her, and became easy, chaffing, almost +gallant. Amersham and his friends would have been amazed had they seen +their sober Jim Silver so much at home with a lady.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say—why not?" he protested, boyish and chaffing.</p> + +<p>"He's too much of a handful for me," said the girl gravely, threading +her needle against the light.</p> + +<p>He laughed, delighted, smacking his knee as he did when pleased, while +even Ma, who of wont turned a deaf ear on the young couple, smiled +sedately.</p> + +<p>"I like that!" cried Silver. "Ha! ha! ho! ho! That's a good un." Then he +turned grave, almost lugubrious. "But of course if you won't have him I +must do something to him. I'm too fond of the old fellow to let him +rot."</p> + +<p>Next morning, before he left for London, Boy saw him from her window +holding intimate communion with Monkey Brand in the Paddock Close beside +the wood.</p> + +<p>When he had driven away, the girl descended from her eyrie and +cross-examined the little jockey sharply.</p> + +<p>Monkey looked secretive and mysterious even for him.</p> + +<p>"He's a very queer gentleman," was all he would say. "One o' them that's +been to India without their 'ats, I should say. You know, Miss?" He +tapped his forehead. "Melted a-top."</p> + +<p>"What did he <i>say</i>?" persisted the girl.</p> + +<p>"He said nobody was to exercise Heart of Oak only unless you wanted him. +And he said he'd make up his mind next week."</p> + +<p>"Make up his mind?"</p> + +<p>"That was the word, Miss."</p> + +<p>"Bring me the gun," ordered Boy.</p> + +<p>The little man obeyed sulkily.</p> + +<p>"It'll be in my room," she said. "And it'll stay there."</p> + +<p>"Very good, Miss," replied the jockey, and winked to himself as the girl +ascended the ladder.</p> + +<p>That evening, as Old Mat slept noisily by the fire with open mouth, the +two women worked.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Woodburn every now and then lifted her eyes to her daughter's face +and let them dwell there, as the sky dwells on a tree.</p> + +<p>"D'you like him, Boy?" she asked at length, tranquilly.</p> + +<p>The girl for once was taken by surprise. She flushed a little and +perhaps for the first time in her life fenced.</p> + +<p>"Who, mother?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Silver."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the girl. "He's like Billy Bluff—only less rowdy."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII<br /> + +<span class="smcap">The Duke's Hounds</span></h4> + + +<p>Silver's Leicestershire friends were under the delusion that he was +keeping his hunters at Lewes. And so indeed he did till the hunting +season began; and then he brought them over to Putnam's.</p> + +<p>The Duke's north-country stud-groom, who was in <i>The Beehive</i> at +Folkington, as they came along the road from Lewes, ran out of the bar +to have a look at them.</p> + +<p>"Ma wud!" he whistled. "Champion!"</p> + +<p>And Mike Rigg was right. Silver's horses indeed were the one item of his +personal expenditure on which the young man never spared his purse. He +used to say with perfect truth that except for his stud he could live +with joy on £3 a week. But there was no man in England who had a rarer +stud of weight-carriers.</p> + +<p>"Big as blood elefunks," said Monkey Brand in the awed voice of a +worshipper. "Flip a couple o' ton across country singin' hallelooyah all +the way."</p> + +<p>The Duke, when first they appeared with his hounds at the covertside, +shook his head over them: for Jim Silver came south with a formidable +reputation as a thruster.</p> + +<p>"Too classy for my country, Silver," he said. "What d'you want with that +sort of stuff down here?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't like to part with 'em, sir," replied the young man. "They've +done me well in their time."</p> + +<p>"I don't want you young bloods from the shires down here," scolded the +Duke. "You'll be all over my hounds. This is an old man's country, ain't +it, Boy?"</p> + +<p>Thunderbolt stood on his hind legs and pawed deliberately at the +heavens.</p> + +<p>"They're big, your Grace," answered the girl. "But Mr. Silver's bigger. +He can hold them."</p> + +<p>"And you can hold him, my dear," said the Duke. "Keep him in your +pocket, there's a good gal. Now, Joe, let's be moving on."</p> + +<p>The Duke was fond of the girl. It was said, indeed, that he liked her +better than anybody in the hunt. Certainly he was never so happy as when +showing her round his famous piggeries at Raynor's, or talking goats to +her at an Agricultural Show.</p> + +<p>Boy on her side was one of the most regular followers of the Duke's +hounds; but, as she never tired of impressing on her friends, she hunted +for professional reasons, and not for pleasure. Indeed, she was honest +as always when she declared that she did not care for hunting for its +own sake. There was so much swank about it and so little business: +oceans of gossip, flirting, swagger, and spite to every ounce of +reality. Moreover, her refined and Puritan spirit revolted against the +people who hunted: she thought of them all as bubbles, brilliant +apparently, but liable to burst at any moment and leave nothing behind +them but a taint of vulgarity.</p> + +<p>When hounds were running people saw little of Silver and the girl, who +were always well behind.</p> + +<p>"Carrying on together," was the spiteful comment of those whom Boy was +wont to call in scorn "the ladies."</p> + +<p>But it was not true. The pair were not coffee-housing. Boy was at her +job, schooling her youngsters with incomparable patience, judgment, and +decision; and Jim Silver, on those great fretting weight-carriers of +his, was marking time and in attendance.</p> + +<p>The Duke, when he got the pair alone, never tired of chaffing them.</p> + +<p>"I notice she always gives you the lead, Silver," he mocked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," replied the young man. "She makes the hole, and I creep +through it afterward."</p> + +<p>The couple were talked about, of course; and both were dimly aware of +it. Boy was used to being made the subject of gossip; and Silver was +almost as unconscious of and aloof from it as were the horses that he +rode.</p> + +<p>The ladies, to whom he paid no attention, were indignant and resentful.</p> + +<p>"It can't be," they said; and—"I hate to see that chit making a fool of +a nice man like that."</p> + +<p>The Duke, whose ears were growing longer every day, heard them once and +began to bellow suddenly in that disconcerting way of his.</p> + +<p>"It's all right!" he shouted. "You needn't be afraid. She won't have +him."</p> + +<p>The ladies jeered secretly. To their minds the question was not whether +the girl would have Silver, but whether he would be Mug enough to give +her the chance.</p> + +<p>Certainly the pair were drawing close.</p> + +<p>Days together in the saddle, the risks and small adventures of the +field, and by no means least those long hacks home at evening, not +seldom in the dark, over the Downs, a great wind blowing gustily under +clear stars, did their sure, unconscious work.</p> + +<p>Up to Christmas the young man visited Putnam's regularly. Then he missed +two successive week-ends. When he came again there was a cloud over him. +It was so faint and far that nobody noticed it indeed but the girl. She +was not deceived.</p> + +<p>As they rode home in the afternoon he was more silent than his wont. +Once or twice her eyes sought his. His brows were level and drawn down. +There was resistance in his face.</p> + +<p>"Are you worried?" she asked.</p> + +<p>His plain, strong face broke up, brightened and became beautiful.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said.</p> + +<p>"Tell me."</p> + +<p>"It's the only thing that ever worries me."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"The Bank."</p> + +<p>"Is it going wrong?"</p> + +<p>He laughed again.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," he said, and began to chuckle at himself. "That's the +trouble. I can't get the hang of it. There's a screw loose somewhere. +I'm like a man steering a ship who knows nothing about navigation."</p> + +<p>"It's all right if you do your best," said the girl, with the little +preacher touch she inherited from her grand-dad. That note always caused +an imp of mischief to bob up in the young man's heart.</p> + +<p>"Hope so, de we," he said.</p> + +<p>She looked at him sharply. <i>She</i> might censure her father, but she +allowed that liberty to no one else.</p> + +<p>"What!" she said.</p> + +<p>Jim Silver took to instant flight.</p> + +<p>"None-nothing," he stammered. "Only I'm afraid the pup-passengers won't +think it's all right when they find themselves going to the bottom. +They'll say, 'What business had you at the wheel if you can't steer?' +And they'll be right, too."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>With the New Year the young man came no more for week-ends, and the +reason was well known.</p> + +<p>The hunting-field is always a great place for gossip, for except at rare +intervals there is little else to do. And with the Duke's hounds the +gossip was about Mr. Silver.</p> + +<p>The Union Bank of Brazil and Uruguay was known to be in difficulties, +and Boy hunted alone.</p> + +<p>"Where's your Life Guardsman?" asked the Duke.</p> + +<p>"Guarding the Bank, I believe, your Grace."</p> + +<p>The Duke grunted.</p> + +<p>"Wants guarding from what I can hear of it," he blurted. "Tell him it's +no good," he shouted. "Tell him to come out of it. It's no job for an +honest man."</p> + +<p>"What isn't?"</p> + +<p>"Bankin'." He muttered to himself. "There's only one thing an honest man +can do, that's land. Everything else you get dirty over. I'm not +overclean myself, but I'm not as dirty as some of 'em."</p> + +<p>Then there appeared paragraphs in the paper.</p> + +<p>The girl asked her father about them.</p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I don't understand it, my dear," he said. "And what's more, I don't +believe Mr. Silver do himself. I see the accounts published in the +paper. Accordin' to them the Bank had five millions in cash. You'd +think you couldn't go very fur wrong with five millions in cash in the +till."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps a clerk's been taking some," said the girl eagerly.</p> + +<p>Once, but only once, there had been a clerk at Putnam's.</p> + +<p>The old man was not to be convinced.</p> + +<p>"Take a tidy-sized clurk to go off with five million in his pocket," he +said. "Course I don't say he couldn't do it, Gob 'elpin' 'im. Only he'd +be carryin' a lot o' dead weight, as the Psalmist said. <i>Too</i> 'eavily +penalised, I should say. No, my dear, 'tain't the clurk. 'Tis the +li'bilities."</p> + +<p>"What are the liabilities?" asked Boy.</p> + +<p>"They're the devil, my dear," said the old man. "That's all I can tell +you. Land you in the lock-up soon as look at you."</p> + +<p>Later that evening the girl went to call on her friend, Mr. Haggard.</p> + +<p>He was in his study among his books, and rose to greet her with that +affectionate kindliness he reserved for her.</p> + +<p>"I want to know something, Mr. Haggard," said the girl in her determined +way.</p> + +<p>He looked at her over his spectacles.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Can they put you in prison if you lose your money?"</p> + +<p>"Not if you lose it honestly," replied the vicar.</p> + +<p>One reason the girl liked him so much was that he never played the fool. +The heavy horse-chaff with which the average Englishman of the Duke's +type, in his elephantine efforts at gallantry, thinks it necessary to +adorn his conversation, were not for him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he'll lose it honestly all right," cried the girl eagerly, +unconscious of the fact that she was giving herself away, or careless of +it.</p> + +<p>It was not hard for the other to gauge her mind. Casually he turned over +an evening paper.</p> + +<p>"I see there's good news about Mr. Silver's Bank," he said. "It's +weathered the storm."</p> + +<p>He pointed out to her a paragraph in the stop-press column.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV<br /> + +<span class="smcap">The Man with the Gamp</span></h4> + + +<p>The good news was confirmed.</p> + +<p>That night a telegram came from Mr. Silver to say he was coming down +next morning and asking them to meet him at Lewes.</p> + +<p>"I knew he'd come if he could to-morrow," cried the girl.</p> + +<p>Her mother looked at her.</p> + +<p>"It's your birthday, Boy," she said.</p> + +<p>The girl's fair face flushed.</p> + +<p>"He doesn't know that," she said, on the defensive. "And you're not to +tell. It's the last day of hunting. That's what I meant."</p> + +<p>She was indeed seventeen next day. And the sign of her womanhood was +that when she came down in the morning her hair was bunched in a neat +little coil at the back of her head. Because of it she was shy and +somewhat defiant. Dressed for hunting in snowy shirt and long-skirted +dark coat, she entered the parlour more swiftly than her wont, in her +shoes and stockings, and carrying her riding-boots in her hand.</p> + +<p>Her father's mild blue eye penetrated her secret at once.</p> + +<p>"That's a little bit o' better," he said. "It's <i>Miss</i> Woodburn now."</p> + +<p>"Now then, father," reproved Mrs. Woodburn.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I knows my place, plea Gob," mumbled the old man. "Ought to arter +all the trainin' you been at the pains to put me to." And he winked and +chuckled and grunted over his porridge.</p> + +<p>"Let me look at you, Boy," said her mother, when the teasing old man had +gone.</p> + +<p>The girl coloured faintly. Her mother kissed her. "Joyce," she said +gravely, "you're a woman now."</p> + +<p>"Am I, mother?" laughed the girl. "I feel like a boy sometimes still."</p> + +<p>She was gay with an unusual gaiety.</p> + +<p>Her mother marked it with those observant eyes of hers.</p> + +<p>After the pair had read together, as their custom was, Mrs. Woodburn +laid the Bible down and took up her knitting.</p> + +<p>Boy pulled on her boots before the fire.</p> + +<p>"I hope you won't marry out of your own class, Boy," said Mrs. Woodburn +at last quietly. "We're humble folk, as dad says."</p> + +<p>"I don't think I shall marry at all," replied the girl curtly. "I don't +feel like it."</p> + +<p>The mother continued on her tranquil way.</p> + +<p>"When you marry, marry your own sort," she advised.</p> + +<p>Boy was silent for a time.</p> + +<p>"Isn't Mr. Silver our sort?" she asked at last, her eyes on her +mother's.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Woodburn, for all her liberal mind, was of the older generation.</p> + +<p>"My dear," she said, "he's an Eton man."</p> + +<p>"He's not like one," replied the girl shortly. "He's a gentleman."</p> + +<p>"My dear, Eton men are gentlemen," reproved Mrs. Woodburn.</p> + +<p>"Some," replied the girl. "The Duke is." She added +maliciously—"Sometimes."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Old Mat, Monkey Brand, and Albert started early for the meet.</p> + +<p>It was a long hour later before mother and daughter, waiting in the +parlour, heard the steady clop-clop of a horse's feet and the crisp +trundle of wheels on the road.</p> + +<p>In another moment the buggy had drawn up at the gate; Goosey Gander was +stretching his neck, and Jerry of the corrugated brow was touching his +hat to the descending passenger.</p> + +<p>A tall, top-hatted figure, enfolded in long, shaggy gray frieze coat, +came up the paved yard toward them between clouds of arabis.</p> + +<p>Silver had changed in the train on the way down. He was booted, spurred, +and above all radiant.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Woodburn went out on to the steps to meet him. The girl hid her +hair behind her mother's stately figure.</p> + +<p>"So you've managed it!" smiled Mrs. Woodburn.</p> + +<p>"I was determined not to miss it," replied the young man, striding up +the steps stiff in his top-boots. "Miss Woodburn, congratulations."</p> + +<p>"Who told you?" cried Boy, taken aback.</p> + +<p>"Billy Bluff, of course," replied the other. "Caddish of him, wasn't +it?"</p> + +<p>They went into the parlour.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Woodburn did not offer the traveller a drink for the simple reason +that it never occurred to her to do so.</p> + +<p>"By Jove! I <i>am</i> late!" cried the young man, glancing at the clock. +"There was a break-down at Hayward's Heath."</p> + +<p>He stripped off his ulster, and stood up in his pink coat, his baggy +white breeches, and top-boots.</p> + +<p>In Boy Woodburn's judgment most men, so attired, looked supremely +ridiculous. It was not so with Mr. Silver. It may be that his absolute +lack of self-consciousness distracted attention from his costume. It may +be that he was so real himself that he dominated his artificial +habiliments. Certainly his strong, clean face, his short, crisp hair, +and pleasant, booming voice possessed and pleased the girl.</p> + +<p>"You'd better be off, or you'll have the Duke down on you," said Mrs. +Woodburn.</p> + +<p>"Dad's gone an hour since," said Boy.</p> + +<p>She led the way swiftly down long stone passages out into the yard. He +followed, his eyes on that shining bunch of hair before him.</p> + +<p>The yard looked deserted. The fan-tails strutted vaingloriously; Maudie +lay in the sun on the stable wall; and Billy Bluff's kennel was empty.</p> + +<p>"Hullo, where's Bill?" cried the young man.</p> + +<p>"Some idiot's let him off his chain," grumbled the girl. "Just like +them. A hunting morning."</p> + +<p>A great gray horse, led by little Jerry, was feeling his way through the +stable-door. Banjo stood seventeen hands or over, but he was all +quality. His long neck was hog-maned; and his Roman nose and sober +colour gave him an air of wisdom and experience which a somewhat +frivolous character belied.</p> + +<p>Young Lollypop, a brown three-year-old, followed demurely behind. For +all his sixteen hands, he looked a mere stripling beside the gray; but +he was far too tall for the girl to mount without assistance. Stanley +went for a bucket, but before he could return Silver had shot the girl +into the saddle, and stood a moment looking up at her with eyes in +which laughter and admiration mingled.</p> + +<p>The girl seemed so slight and yet so masterful on these great larruping +thoroughbreds she always rode!</p> + +<p>Young Lollypop had the callow and awkward ways of a young giraffe, but, +though only a three-year-old, he was sedate as an old maid and had the +dignity of a churchwarden. His behaviour was an example to his flippant +colleague.</p> + +<p>For Banjo, directly he felt his master on his back, began to galumph +about the yard with a clatter of hoofs among the injured fan-tails and +to the discomfiture of Maudie.</p> + +<p>"Right!" grunted Silver, settling into his saddle. "Now, you old hog, +you!"</p> + +<p>Brown Lollypop cocked his long ears and watched with pained disapproval +the gambols of his elder. Himself incorruptible, he was no doubt well +pleased at heart that Banjo's misconduct should throw up in high relief +his own immaculate conduct. Lollypop was in fact a bit of a prig. Had he +been a boy he would have been head of his school, a Scholar of Balliol, +and President of the Union at his University.</p> + +<p>The girl followed her leader through the gate, the brown horse stepping +gingerly, swinging his tail, and feeling his bit, while Banjo galumphed +and grunted to the sound of a squeaking leather.</p> + +<p>The meet was at Folkington Green, at the foot of the Downs on the edge +of the low country.</p> + +<p>Once in the road, Silver and the girl turned their backs on the sea and +made through the village.</p> + +<p>Just outside it a familiar figure was waiting them on the road, +apologetic and pleading.</p> + +<p>"I knew he would," said Boy. "He started with father and got turned +back. Now he's waiting for us. <i>Go back, you bad dog!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Poor boy!—he wants a bit of a hunt, too," said the young man.</p> + +<p>"I'll hunt him!" cried the girl remorselessly, and proceeded to do so +with vigour.</p> + +<p>It was some time before the dog was routed and they were free to pursue +their way.</p> + +<p>"What's the time?" asked the girl.</p> + +<p>Silver referred to his wrist-watch.</p> + +<p>"It's nearly half-past eleven."</p> + +<p>"We must trot," said Boy.</p> + +<p>They trotted away, the brown horse and the gray side by side, the +regular clap-clap of their feet sometimes overlapping and sometimes +beating in unison, only to break eventually again, to the disappointment +of the girl's attentive ear. It was the fashion amid the hunting folk to +despise hacking along the road as so much waste of time. To the girl the +steady tramp along the hard road was like the march of life. She would +hack from covert to covert, one of a great cavalcade, men and women, +with bobbing heads, their faces set all in the same direction, the sound +of the horses' feet splashing all round her like a stream. She would +flow along in the centre of that stream, unconscious of those about her, +silent when addressed, absorbed in the only music for which she cared.</p> + +<p>The noise of Banjo blowing his nose now brought her back to earth. She +peeped at the face of the man on the big gray at her side.</p> + +<p>"Had a bad time?" she asked warily.</p> + +<p>He turned to her, his face lit with the smile that took all the +heaviness out of it.</p> + +<p>"Worrying," he said.</p> + +<p>"Well, you're through now," said the girl.</p> + +<p>"Plea Gob," he answered, "till next time. We'd have been in the cart but +the Bank of England stood by like a brick."</p> + +<p>Their steady pace took them along. They were getting away from the +hills, and the Weald was opening before them. The sun shone on them, and +the willows on either side the road declared that April was at hand. +They eased down to a walk.</p> + +<p>Silver opened his chest.</p> + +<p>"I feel like singing!" he cried.</p> + +<p>"Sing then," said Boy.</p> + +<p>In his quiet booming voice he sang a verse from <i>Two on the Downs</i>, +which in their long hacks home of evening she had taught him—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 19em;"><i>Sing ho!</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 19em;"><i>So we go,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;"><i>Over Downs that are surging green</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;"><i>Under the sky and the seas that lie</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;"><i>Silvery-strewn between</i>.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>He finished and turned to her with a laugh and shining eyes.</p> + +<p>She glanced away, and on her face was that delicious wary look he loved +so well, baffling and baffled, disturbing because disturbed, as when a +little wind ruffles at evening a willow, exposing to the sky in spite of +protest the silvery undersides of naked, shining leaves.</p> + +<p>Jim Silver edged across to her.</p> + +<p>"Miss Woodburn!" he said quietly. He held out a great gloved hand.</p> + +<p>Boy looked resolutely between her horse's ears.</p> + +<p>"Trot," she said.</p> + +<p>A few straggling foot-passengers, an occasional trap, a man on a +bicycle, and some children pushing a perambulator, showed them they were +drawing near their goal.</p> + +<p>About half a mile in front the road opened on to a green. There among +trees they could see a gathering of men and horses.</p> + +<p>"Good!" cried the young man. "They haven't moved off yet. Shall we slow +down?"</p> + +<p>"Best get on, I think," replied the girl.</p> + +<p>A man in a slouch hat, carrying a gamp as untidy as himself, was walking +before them down the middle of the road.</p> + +<p>"Ass!" muttered the young man. "Why can't he keep to one side?"</p> + +<p>Boy shot ahead, Silver took a pull. Banjo made a fuss, took offence, +then went striding hugely by, and shied off, splashing through a puddle.</p> + +<p>The brown waters rose and drenched the pedestrian.</p> + +<p>"Thank <i>you!</i>" he called furiously after the horseman.</p> + +<p>Banjo, as though frightened at his deed, tried a bolt. A horseman of +unusual power, Silver steadied the great horse and swung him across the +road. There Banjo sidled, yawed, and passaged, fretting to be after the +brown.</p> + +<p>The young man, swinging to the motions of the tossing gray, raised his +hand in that large and gracious way of his.</p> + +<p>"So sorry," he shouted back.</p> + +<p>The man with the gamp shuffled toward him.</p> + +<p>"Of course it wasn't deliberate!" he cried.</p> + +<p>It was Silver's turn to be angry.</p> + +<p>He gripped the gray, lifted him round like a polo pony, and drove him +back to the angry man.</p> + +<p>"You don't think I'd do a thing like that on purpose!" he said, and saw +for the first time that the man with the gamp was Joses.</p> + +<p>"You didn't know it was me, of course," sneered the other, shaking with +anger.</p> + +<p>"I did not," replied Silver, calm and cold as Joses was hot.</p> + +<p>"Then I don't believe you," cried the tout.</p> + +<p>Silver looked down at him.</p> + +<p>"I've said I'm sorry. I've no more to say," he remarked quietly.</p> + +<p>"Haven't you?" cried the fat man. "I have, though."</p> + +<p>He made a snatch at Banjo's rein.</p> + +<p>The gray reared, backed away into the ditch, collapsed there on his +quarters, and recovered himself with the grunt and flounder of a +hippopotamus emerging from a river.</p> + +<p>A little crowd was collecting swiftly, drawn by the hopes of a row.</p> + +<p>Then there came the clatter of a horse's feet. Boy was coming back to +the group at a gallop.</p> + +<p>"I saw what happened," she said, her deep voice a little sharp. "Your +horse shied and splashed Mr. Joses." She appealed swiftly to him. +"Wasn't that it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Silver coldly. "I splashed him by accident and apologised."</p> + +<p>"<i>And he turned nasty!</i>"</p> + +<p>The intervening voice was harsh and unfamiliar. Silver turned to see a +tall inspector of police sitting like a pillar of salt in a dog-cart, +which had drawn up in the road.</p> + +<p>Joses, who had seen him, too, began to shake, and more horrible still to +laugh.</p> + +<p>"He was naturally a bit annoyed," said Silver.</p> + +<p>The tall inspector was looking Joses up and down. There was a dreadful +air of domination about him.</p> + +<p>"If you're satisfied, sir, I say no more," said the inspector, reluctant +as a dog to leave a bone.</p> + +<p>"I'm satisfied," replied Silver.</p> + +<p>The inspector withdrew. The little knot of people who had gathered began +to disperse. The young man and the girl trotted on their way.</p> + +<p>"Most unfortunate," muttered Silver.</p> + +<p>"Most," Boy answered.</p> + +<p>In Joses's eyes she had seen again that look of the wild beast, caged +and cowering.</p> + +<p>The young man felt censure in her voice.</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't think it was my fault," he said, nettled.</p> + +<p>"I know it wasn't," she cried. "But—"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"That inspector's way with him. Like a slavedriver."</p> + +<p>"I know," said Silver. "Horrible."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV<br /> + +<span class="smcap">The Black Bird</span></h4> + + +<p>The last meet of the season was, as always, at Folkington Green, close +enough to Lewes to draw the townsfolk out on bicycles and in +char-à-bancs.</p> + +<p>The morning was fine after rain, and there was a full attendance on the +green under the swinging sign of <i>The Beehive</i>.</p> + +<p>Old Mat sat by the muddy pond on his three-cornered cob. He was dressed, +as always, in flat-topped hat, trousers, and elastic-sided boots; and he +swung his legs mechanically against Ichabod's hardened sides.</p> + +<p>About him was gathered the usual group of admiring ladies. They liked +Old Mat as much as they disliked his daughter.</p> + +<p>"I don't come 'ere to 'unt," the old man was saying wearily; "I come +'ere to putest. Yes, you can persecute me if you like, same as you do +the fox, but if I live through it, as I 'ave before, I shall go 'ome to +Mar, and next time you comes out I shall be there givin' my witness, de +we." His face was firm and nobly resolute. "Crool, I calls it," he said. +"Such a lot of you, too. Hosses and dogs, men and women, not to say +perambylators. All on his back at once; and he'll beat the lot yet, +you'll see. That's because he's got religion in him, little red fox has. +His conscience is clear, same as mine." He looked about him. "Now +there's Mr. Haggard there be the elm. He thinks just the very same as +me—only he ain't got the spirit in him to stand up and say so. I'd 'a' +wep a tear—only I ain't got one."</p> + +<p>The Duke in his hunting cap sat close by on his cobby chestnut, which +looked as if it had come out of an old hunting print, and the hounds +sprawled about it in the sunshine on the green.</p> + +<p>Silver rode up to the Duke, who greeted him ironically.</p> + +<p>"Late as usual, Silver," he said. "We've been waiting for you since +Christmas."</p> + +<p>"Very good of you, sir," replied the young man. "I only came down from +town this morning."</p> + +<p>"Glad you could get away," grunted the Duke. "Hope you've done 'em down +all right."</p> + +<p>Silver walked his horse away across the green.</p> + +<p>The inspector, who had drawn up in the road, got down from his trap, and +came toward Silver.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, sir," he said. "You've nothing against that chap?"</p> + +<p>He knew very well who Silver was, and was obsequious accordingly.</p> + +<p>"Nothing," said Silver shortly.</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, won't you, sir?" continued the inspector. "I wouldn't +trouble you only we know him. He's been in trouble before. And we have +to watch him. He's a bit funny in the temper. And when he's on the boil +there's not a great deal he'll stop at."</p> + +<p>"I've nothing against him," repeated Silver, and rode on to join Monkey +Brand, who was nursing a youngster by the pond.</p> + +<p>The little jockey greeted him with a drop of one eyelid.</p> + +<p>"He's watchin' you, sir," he said quietly.</p> + +<p>"Who is?" asked the young man.</p> + +<p>"Joses, sir. Through the window of <i>The Beehive</i>."</p> + +<p>"Never mind him," replied Silver, keeping his broad scarlet back turned +on the public-house and the face peering at him over the half-blind.</p> + +<p>"He's got some friends here," continued Monkey, in the same hushed +monotone. "That's why he's gone inside. That tall genelman you was +talkin' with. Very close they was at one time. Too close in a manner o' +speakin'. See, you can be <i>too</i> close friends. Then you gets to know too +much about each other. Then there's trouble and a kickin'-match."</p> + +<p>The Duke waved his arm, and hounds moved off.</p> + +<p>Horsemen, carriages, and pedestrians followed them in straggling +procession.</p> + +<p>Monkey Brand and Silver kept together. In front of them Boy Woodburn and +Albert Edward rode side by side.</p> + +<p>Viewed from the rear, they were ridiculously alike in shape and size and +bearing.</p> + +<p>The little jockey pointed out the resemblance to his companion. He +clucked and winked and joggled with his elbow.</p> + +<p>"Not much atween 'em seen from behind, sir," he said.</p> + +<p>"How's he coming on?" asked Silver.</p> + +<p>"Why, not bad, sir," replied the jockey. "He's the pick of our bunch +anyway. If he wasn't so puffed up wiv himself, he'd do."</p> + +<p>"I saw he did Chukkers down at Sandown in the International," said the +young man.</p> + +<p>"He did, sir. He did so," replied the little man. "One more up to +Putnam's, that was." And he gave the story of how the Putnam's lad had +beaten the crack in the big race.</p> + +<p>It seemed that Chukkers, who was riding Jackaroo for Ikey Aaronsohnn, +had thought he was well through, and was sitting down to idle home, when +two fences from the finish Albert Edward, riding an any-price outsider, +came up on his right out of the blue and challenged the star-spangled +jacket.</p> + +<p>Chukkers, who was on the favourite, with orders to win, had drawn his +whip and ridden for his life.</p> + +<p>"'E could draw whip and draw blood, too," chuckled Monkey Brand. "But it +weren't no manner o' good. Took up his whip and stopped his 'orse. +Albert, 'e never stir. Sat there and goes cluck-cluck and got home on +the post. Rode a pretty race, he did. Miss Boy was ever so please."</p> + +<p>"And what about Chukkers?" asked Jim.</p> + +<p>Monkey Brand sniggered.</p> + +<p>"He was foamin'-mad, bloody-yellin' all over the place. I was glad Mrs. +Woodburn wasn't there to hear. Jaggers had him out on the mat afore 'em +all. Said he'd been caught nappin'—by a boy with a face like a girl, +too. Putnam 'orse and all. That got ole Chukkers' tail up. He made +trouble in the weighin'-room. Said Albert had done him a dirty dish; but +you can't go to the Stewards on that. And Albert he told Miss Boy—'I +never done nothin' to him, only beat him.' And he told the truth that +time if he never told it afore. 'Never you mind,' says Miss Boy. 'You +won and you'll win again—if your head don't get so swelled you can't +get the weight. We all know Chukkers,' says she, 'and Jaggers, too.'"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The last day was never taken very seriously by the regular followers of +the Duke's hounds. All those to whom hunting was the one worthy +occupation in life kept religiously aloof.</p> + +<p>"It's the people's day," they said. "They don't want us."</p> + +<p>To-day was no exception to the rule.</p> + +<p>Before lunch hounds chopped a mangy fox outside Prior's Wood; and it was +not till the afternoon was getting on that they found a rover lying out +in a field of mangolds.</p> + +<p>He must have been a hill-fox, who had been caught raiding in the +lowlands, for he made a straight point for the Downs.</p> + +<p>There was the usual scurry. Boy Woodburn was, as always, the last away, +with Silver in close attendance.</p> + +<p>They threaded the ragged fringes of pedestrians, who still clung to the +skirts of the horsemen, turned to the right through an open gate, and +leisurely pursued the cavalcade disappearing furiously before them in +the distance.</p> + +<p>The girl nursed her baby, who showed himself as unconcerned by the fuss +and flurry of the vanguard as his young mistress; while Banjo fretted +and fumed to get away.</p> + +<p>They crossed a big grass field at a canter. Lollypop was young and raw +as a calf, and Jim Silver rode well behind, giving him and his rider +plenty of room.</p> + +<p>Before them was a low stake-and-bound with a drop on the far side. +Lollypop flopped along toward it like a boat in a swell, flapping his +long ears, bridling, and pondering whether he would have it or not. On +the whole, he thought he would. To lift over it would probably mean less +trouble in the end than to fight the quiet and resolute creature who +cooed so softly in his ears, and rode him with such iron resolution. +Moreover, he knew now as the result of experience that if it came to a +struggle he would be worsted in the end if it took all day. It would +certainly be less irksome, and more gracious, to get the thing behind +you. To jump, and to pretend you liked it, was the generous and the +politic thing to do. Moreover, it was all in the direction of home and +bran-mash; while there was Banjo golly-woshing through the mud close +behind him. And Lollypop not only had to live up to his reputation and +set his elder an example, which he loved to do, but he also wished to +show the gray what he could do himself when he tried.</p> + +<p>The young horse had just made up his mind in the right way, cocked his +ears, gathered himself, and passed the thrill to his responsive and +expectant mistress, when a huge and black bird, vaster and far more +hideous than anything the young horse had ever seen upon the Downs, rose +suddenly underneath his nose on the far side of the hedge, flapped its +wings obscenely, spread them wide, and then twirled round insanely at +astonishing speed.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Joses, nursing his wounds, sat on in the parlour of <i>The Beehive</i> long +after the cavalcade had moved off, and comforted himself in the usual +way.</p> + +<p>When at length he rose with a drained tankard and paid his shot at the +counter, he gave his views on society to the landlord in such coloured +terms as genuinely to shock that worthy, who had been brought up +respectably in the shadow of a Duke.</p> + +<p>"They're patriots and imperialists, they are," said the fat man. "Never +think of themselves. They hunt the fox, and shoot the pheasant, and +keep you and me under, not because they enjoy it and want all the fun to +themselves. Oh, no!—don't make that mistake. But because it's their +bounden duty to God and man so to do!"</p> + +<p>The landlord gave him his change.</p> + +<p>"Are you a Socialist?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No," laughed Joses. "I'm a —— aristocrat. You might know it from me +language—let alone me looks. With a stake in the country, a pew in the +church, and a seat in the House of Mammon. Goodbye! God bless our +gracious King! And to hell with the rights of You and Me!"</p> + +<p>He went out and made for the hills, churning his grievances into mud +within him.</p> + +<p>He had walked for an hour across the fields, blind and deaf to all about +him, when an insistent sound from the outer world penetrated the +outworks of his disturbed spirit.</p> + +<p>He stopped and listened.</p> + +<p>Hounds were running. Yes. No. Yes. That musical tow-row, passionate, +terrible, and never-to-be-forgotten, was not to be mistaken.</p> + +<p>Hounds were running, and they were coming in his direction at speed. +Joses, always something of a sportsman, came out of himself in his own +despite. He hurried down a bridle-path toward the line of the hunt.</p> + +<p>Before him, some fields away, he saw hounds toppling over a hedge like a +breaker curling before it fell. There followed in line horsemen and +horsewomen, singly, straggling, and in groups.</p> + +<p>Joses stayed and watched them sweep by some distance from him. The +mutter of horses' feet close at hand struck his ear. He turned and +looked over the hedge. A man and a girl were cantering leisurely toward +him. The man was on a gray, and it was clear from the way the girl +handled her horse that he was young and uncertain of himself.</p> + +<p>An imp of malignant deviltry, born of spite and alcohol, bobbed up in +Joses's heart. He ducked behind the hedge, opened his umbrella suddenly, +and twirled it overhead.</p> + +<p>Lollypop's nerves were of the very best, but this was altogether too +much for him. He refused suddenly and with a snort, whipped about, swift +as a top, slid up, and collapsed on his side.</p> + +<p>Boy was flung forward on her head and shoulder.</p> + +<p>A moment she stayed where she was on her hands and knees, clutching at +the bridle. Lollypop floundered to his feet, and tugged to get away, +staring with wide-flung nostrils and trembling flanks at the hedge.</p> + +<p>The girl rose slowly to her feet. Her hat was muddy and battered, and +she looked before her foolishly and with dazed eyes.</p> + +<p>Silver had galloped up and was on his feet in a minute at her side.</p> + +<p>"Are you hurt?" he asked anxiously.</p> + +<p>"I'm all right," she replied sleepily.</p> + +<p>Joses was peering over the hedge. It was difficult to say what was in +those shining eyes of his.</p> + +<p>"Nasty shy," he said.</p> + +<p>Silver looked up.</p> + +<p>"I'm coming round to you in a minute, my friend," he said deeply.</p> + +<p>Joses's face darkened.</p> + +<p>"Why, you don't think it was deliberate?" he cackled.</p> + +<p>"I'll let you know what I think later," replied the young man.</p> + +<p>"You frighten me!" mocked the other, rumbling his dreadful laughter. +"Mind you tell your friends the police!" he added, and was gone.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI<br /> + +<span class="smcap">Jim Silver Goes To War</span></h4> + + +<p>Boy was muddy, and her hat was dented and askew. The little creature +looked strangely pathetic as she stood up alongside tall Lollypop with +the slimy flank.</p> + +<p>"I'll get on again now," she said, gathering her reins. "Put me up, will +you?"</p> + +<p>"No," answered Silver.</p> + +<p>The tears sprang to the girl's eyes.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" she asked fretfully, but for the first time since they had +met she submitted to his will.</p> + +<p>Jim took Lollypop's rein and led both horses slowly toward the farm +among apple trees at the end of the field.</p> + +<p>Boy walked at his side.</p> + +<p>"It's silly to feel so funny," she laughed feebly.</p> + +<p>"Take my arm," he said; but she refused.</p> + +<p>They came to the gate of the farm.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"In here."</p> + +<p>He gave a shout.</p> + +<p>A woman in a sunbonnet came to the door and stared.</p> + +<p>"Is that you, Miss Woodburn?" she cried. "Oh! <i>dear</i> me!"</p> + +<p>"Hullo, Mrs. Ticehurst," said the girl. "I've had a bit of a spill."</p> + +<p>"Can Miss Woodburn come in and rest for a moment?" asked Silver.</p> + +<p>"Come in and rest!" cried the woman. "Hark to him! Think I'd turn a dog +away like that—let alone Miss Joyce."</p> + +<p>"Such a fuss!" protested the girl.</p> + +<p>The woman called to a yokel to come and take the horses.</p> + +<p>Languidly the girl walked down the paved path between rank currant +bushes, and entered the house.</p> + +<p>"Here in the parlour, Miss!" said the woman, kind and bustling.</p> + +<p>"I'd rather the kitchen, please," said Boy. "Cosier there."</p> + +<p>"Very well, my dear. There's a fire there. And I'll get you a cup o' +tea."</p> + +<p>When Silver entered the house a little later he saw the girl comfortably +established by the fire.</p> + +<p>He peeped in and withdrew quietly.</p> + +<p>"I'll be back in a minute," he said quietly to the woman. "I'm just +going to have a look at the horses."</p> + +<p>In the yard he found the yokel trying in vain to induce Banjo to enter a +door that was too small for him.</p> + +<p>"All right," said the young man. "He won't fit."</p> + +<p>Mounting, he rode out into the field.</p> + +<p>Banjo knew his master meant business directly he was in the saddle, and +answered instantaneously to the call, dropping the nonsense, and +settling down to work sober as a bishop.</p> + +<p>The yokel watched the pair with admiration.</p> + +<p>There was such power about them both.</p> + +<p>The big man cantered across the field, put the gray at the fence, and +cleared it without an effort.</p> + +<p>There was a slight drop into a bridle-lane.</p> + +<p>The man on the gray turned and cantered quietly along it.</p> + +<p>He jumped a low heave-gate and followed the track beyond. In the next +field he saw his quarry, hunting along at a little dog-trot.</p> + +<p>Joses seemed to have no fear of pursuit.</p> + +<p>Jim Silver stole up behind him, Banjo, as though entering into the +spirit of the pursuit, seeming to muffle the sound of his going.</p> + +<p>A hundred yards from his quarry the young man came with a rattle. Joses +turned, but it was too late.</p> + +<p>The lash curled round his plump carcase.</p> + +<p>Silver swept on like a hailstorm, and pulled Banjo up on his haunches.</p> + +<p>Then he sat with white face and shining eyes, trailing his lash as he +waited the assault.</p> + +<p>He had not long to wait.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Boy sat by the fire in the kitchen and drank her tea, an alert little +figure, her burnished hair neatly coiled, and hat beside her.</p> + +<p>It was clear she was entirely herself again.</p> + +<p>Then Silver stood in the door and smiled at her. He was very quiet and +rather pale.</p> + +<p>The girl looked up at him suspiciously.</p> + +<p>"Where've you been?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"With the horses," he answered.</p> + +<p>She was not to be deceived.</p> + +<p>"You've been having a hunt of your own," she said. "I hope you didn't +find."</p> + +<p>He looked out of the window evasively.</p> + +<p>"Scent poor to bad," he said slowly.</p> + +<p>By the time they mounted it was late in the afternoon, and the glory had +departed from the day.</p> + +<p>They climbed the Downs, and rode along the tops of them, their faces to +the sea, speaking hardly at all, and walking all the while.</p> + +<p>This sudden and surprising contact with evil had taken the joy from +their hearts and oppressed them like a shadow.</p> + +<p>Once as they drew near home he spoke.</p> + +<p>"How are you?" he said.</p> + +<p>"I'm all right," she answered, and added, lifting her face to his in +that frank and beautiful way of hers, "I don't think he meant it for +me."</p> + +<p>"I'm not sure," replied Silver.</p> + +<p>"I think he meant it for you," continued Boy.</p> + +<p>"If so I should think a shade better of him," replied the other +stubbornly.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you didn't catch him," said the girl. She turned full face to +him. "You <i>were</i> angry."</p> + +<p>"I <i>was</i> a bit put out, I think," answered the other.</p> + +<p>They dropped down the hill into the Paddock Close, graying faintly in +the dusk.</p> + +<p>Boy's high spirits were pouring back on her in merry little rivulets, +all the readier to brim their banks for having been dammed so long.</p> + +<p>"Come and see Four-Pound-the-Second," she cried, and led away along the +hillside at a trot.</p> + +<p>"How's he coming on?" asked the young man, jogging at her side, +delighting in her returning life.</p> + +<p>"Father thinks he's going to be a great horse," laughed the girl. "But +he won't admit it to me, of course."</p> + +<p>"So he is, plea Gob," said Jim.</p> + +<p>Boy looked at him severely. Then she tapped him with her crop.</p> + +<p>"He may," she said. "You mayn't. And you mustn't mimic dad."</p> + +<p>He touched his forehead.</p> + +<p>At the Bottom, not far from the place where the old mare had died, a +rough thatched shed of tarred sleepers had been run up for the colt.</p> + +<p>"There he is!" said the girl. "By the wood," and called him.</p> + +<p>The yearling came, trotting proudly at first, and then breaking into an +ungainly gallop. A gawky creature, with a coat like a bear's, he moved +with the awkward grace of a puppy, slithering and slipping in the mud, +yet always recovering himself with surprising speed and precision.</p> + +<p>Boy dismounted, and Silver followed her example.</p> + +<p>She held out her hand toward the colt.</p> + +<p>"Come on, the boy!" she cooed. "Billy Bluff's not here to rag you."</p> + +<p>The colt came delicately with outstretched neck and wide nostrils, +fearing for his liberty, yet poking out his nose toward the extended +palm on which there lay a piece of bread.</p> + +<p>"Looks as if he might make into something, don't you think?" said the +girl. "Lots of bone."</p> + +<p>"What colour's he going to be?" asked the young man.</p> + +<p>"Black-brown with bay points. Black-and-tan, mother calls him."</p> + +<p>"Black-and-tan," said the young man. "That's Berserk, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"I believe so," replied the girl.</p> + +<p>"Is that sure?" asked the young man.</p> + +<p>"Father seems to think so," replied Boy evasively. "Monkey Brand met the +gypsy afterward, who pitched him a tale."</p> + +<p>"Who's he belong to?" asked the young man.</p> + +<p>"Me, of course," laughed Boy.</p> + +<p>"I'll go shares with you!" said Silver. "Halve expenses and winnings. +There's an offer now!"</p> + +<p>"Right," she cried.</p> + +<p>They shook hands with laughter, and led their horses across the Close.</p> + +<p>The girl edged off to the right.</p> + +<p>"We'll look in on old Ragamuffin," she said. "I always used to give him +an apple on my birthday."</p> + +<p>As they put the wood between them and the Bottom, a man who had been +lying in the shelter out of the wind came to the door and called to the +colt.</p> + +<p>"Whoa, little man!" he said. "Whoa then!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII<br /> + +<span class="smcap">The Fire in the Dusk</span></h4> + + +<p>It was Jerry who gave the alarm ten minutes later. He had been busy at +his garden in the Sloperies when he saw the smoke rise from the shelter +on the hill, and rushed into the yard to say the shed was ablaze.</p> + +<p>Boy and Silver, after their leisurely walk home, had just entered the +yard and surrendered their horses to two of the lads. The girl was +releasing Billy Bluff from his chain, to Maudie's open annoyance, when +Jerry panted in with his news.</p> + +<p>Silver ran to the gate.</p> + +<p>"By Jove, so it is!" he cried.</p> + +<p>He was in the saddle in a moment, but not so quickly as was the girl.</p> + +<p>She led him through the gate.</p> + +<p>Together they galloped across the Paddock Close and made for the hill, +Billy Bluff racing at their side.</p> + +<p>The lads ran heavily behind.</p> + +<p>The shed was belching smoke, and from the heather-thatch the flames were +leaping in red flicker.</p> + +<p>"Jolly blaze!" cried Silver as he galloped.</p> + +<p>A sound of banging came from the heart of that cloud of smoke, and then +the loud neigh of a frightened horse.</p> + +<p>The young man's face changed.</p> + +<p>"Four Pound's inside!" he cried.</p> + +<p>He stormed up the hill, and for the first time in his life Banjo tasted +steel.</p> + +<p>Boy, too, had heard that muffled cry, and came shooting by the +heavy-weight up the hill, Lollypop well extended.</p> + +<p>"Keep clear!" cried Silver. "Hold my horse!"</p> + +<p>He was off in a trice, and wading through the bellying smoke.</p> + +<p>The girl could see him dimly as he kicked at the door of the shed.</p> + +<p>It burst open.</p> + +<p>A vast shadow came hurtling through the fog.</p> + +<p>Silver was sent hurling backward and sprawled on the hillside.</p> + +<p>He was on his feet in a moment.</p> + +<p>"That's all right," he panted, as he watched the colt career whinnying +away, wreaths of smoke still clinging to his woolly coat. "He's not +taken much harm."</p> + +<p>"I suppose he went in after we left," mused Boy. "And then the wind +banged the door."</p> + +<p>"I don't think the wind dropped that bar," said the young man. "And I +doubt if it set the shelter alight."</p> + +<p>The shed was blazing merrily, the flames devouring the tarred wood with +greed.</p> + +<p>Jerry had seen a man leave the public path, cross the Paddock, and enter +the shed half an hour before.</p> + +<p>"What kind of a man?" asked Silver.</p> + +<p>"Trampy, sir," replied the lad.</p> + +<p>"He got smokin' in it out of the wind," said Stanley, "and set it +ablaze, and did a bolt."</p> + +<p>"After shutting the door behind him with the colt inside," commented +Silver.</p> + +<p>He searched the grass on the outskirts of the shed for footmarks. +Something glimmering in the dusk caught his eye. It was a +wooden-handled sheath-knife.</p> + +<p>Silver picked it up and showed it to the girl.</p> + +<p>She said nothing.</p> + +<p>"Billy Bluff!" called the young man. He shoved the knife under the dog's +nose. "Sik him out!" he called. "Good dorg!"</p> + +<p>Billy Bluff skirmished round and went off up the hill at score.</p> + +<p>Silver mounted and followed.</p> + +<p>The trail carried the dog up on to the Downs.</p> + +<p>He pursued it at speed and unfaltering in the dusk.</p> + +<p>Against the pale west, on the brow, the figure of a man soon came into +view. Billy Bluff raced up and greeted the pedestrian effusively.</p> + +<p>Silver, pounding up behind, found himself face to face with the vicar.</p> + +<p>The dog, his task completed to his own entire satisfaction, sought +applause and sympathy from the horseman.</p> + +<p>"Is that you, Mr. Haggard?" called the young man in the dusk.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I came up to have a look at the sunset."</p> + +<p>"You haven't seen that man Joses about?"</p> + +<p>"Our lurid friend," said the vicar absently. "No; and I don't want to +see him just now. It's all so quiet."</p> + +<p>Boy, who had stayed behind to examine the colt, came cantering up.</p> + +<p>The dusk was drawing down apace, the earth dark about them, and seaward +that window in the west pale and lovely.</p> + +<p>"Wonderful!" said Mr. Haggard, dreamily, and repeated slowly and to +himself—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;"><i>Since I can never see your face,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 16em;"><i>And never shake you by the hand,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;"><i>I send my soul through time and space</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 16em;"><i>To greet you. You will understand.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p>The riders turned away.</p> + +<p>Neither spoke for a while.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Haggard's like mother," said the girl at last. "He's got <i>that</i>." +She added: "I'm glad we met him. I was very angry."</p> + +<p>"Aren't you now?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, "but in a different way. It's white now. It was red +then."</p> + +<p>They rode slowly off the crest amid the gorse, the lights of Putnam's +burning far beneath them in the dusk.</p> + +<p>"Give me that knife, please," she said.</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"I want it."</p> + +<p>"What for?"</p> + +<p>He didn't answer.</p> + +<p>"I know," she said. "To get him put away."</p> + +<p>"He deserves it," replied the young man doggedly. "If it had only been +the shed now!—but—"</p> + +<p>"Four Pound," she said. "I know." Her little hand came reaching toward +him in the dusk. "Give me that knife, please."</p> + +<p>He fenced with her.</p> + +<p>"Don't you believe in punishment?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"Not even for cruelty?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think you can stop cruelty by being cruel yourself."</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't you give him in charge?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, "if I was sure they'd kill him. But they wouldn't. +They'd only cage him. And I can't believe in the cage for anyone." She +was breathing deeply.</p> + +<p>"Here you are," said the young man.</p> + +<p>She laid her hand on his a moment.</p> + +<p>He grasped it, and drew toward her silently.</p> + +<p>The horses moved side by side down the hill, a few pale stars sprinkling +the dull heavens, and somewhere behind, the glimmer of a young moon.</p> + +<p>They passed into the Paddock Close, stealing softly over the turf, the +wood moving gently on their right in the darkness.</p> + +<p>He came looming up beside her.</p> + +<p>"Boy," he said deeply.</p> + +<p>It was the first time he had dared.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered, and her voice trembled ever so little.</p> + +<p>"Will you share something besides Four-Pound-the-Second?"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Everything."</p> + +<p>The moon caught her.</p> + +<p>She turned full face to him; and her eyes were tender and brilliant as +he had never known them.</p> + +<p>"D'you care for me?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I love you," said Silver.</p> + +<p>She squeezed his hand, but answered nothing.</p> + +<p>"D'you care for <i>me</i>?" he asked in his turn.</p> + +<p>She did not answer for some time.</p> + +<p>"I'm not going to marry you," she said at last.</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>He thought she gulped.</p> + +<p>"I'm not going to marry a gentleman."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>Again she paused.</p> + +<p>"It doesn't do."</p> + +<p>He lifted her little hand in his great gloved one and kissed it.</p> + +<p>"Bless you, dear Boy," was all he said.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII<br /> + +<span class="smcap">The Fat Man Goes Under</span></h4> + + +<p>It was two days later that the girl met Joses in the village street.</p> + +<p>She crossed to him swiftly, and she was white and sparkling.</p> + +<p>"Here's your knife, Mr. Joses," she said, handing it him.</p> + +<p>There came into his eyes at once that hunted look.</p> + +<p>He put both hands behind him and bowed with his honeyed smile.</p> + +<p>"It's not mine, Miss Woodburn, thank you," he said.</p> + +<p>The girl was growing apace.</p> + +<p>A few months back she would have said "It is," and have dropped it at +his feet. Now she answered:</p> + +<p>"You may have it whenever you like to call for it," and passed on.</p> + +<p>A little farther down the street she met the vicar.</p> + +<p>On her face was that frosty look that Mr. Haggard said made him afraid.</p> + +<p>"Well, Boy?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, Mr. Haggard," she answered, but she did not stop.</p> + +<p>That evening she called at the cottage where Joses lodged and handed +Mrs. Boam the knife done up in brown paper.</p> + +<p>"Will you give this to Mr. Joses?" she said.</p> + +<p>The woman's apron was to her lips, and over it her frightened eyes +peered at the girl.</p> + +<p>"He's gone, Miss," she said.</p> + +<p>The girl was surprised.</p> + +<p>"Gone?" she said. "Where?"</p> + +<p>The woman nibbled her apron.</p> + +<p>"An hour since. The police come for him. I was makin' the tea."</p> + +<p>That strange tide of Other-Consciousness overwhelmed the girl.</p> + +<p>"Are you fond of him?" asked the Voice that used her as an instrument.</p> + +<p>The woman with the streaming eyes nodded over her apron.</p> + +<p>"Our Jenny love him," she said.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">End of Part I</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="Battle" id="Battle"></a><span class="smcap">Battle</span></h4> + + +<p>It was Old Mat who was responsible for the arrest of Joses on the charge +of incendiarism.</p> + +<p>"I got to do me duty by the pore feller," he said quietly. "And will do, +de we. Same as the Psalmist says. It's <i>because</i> you love 'em you got to +chastise of 'em. Only where it is," he ended disconsolately, "don't +somehow seem as they <i>can</i> understand."</p> + +<p>The evidence was fairly plain. Jerry had marked the tout late in the +afternoon of the day in question cross the Paddock Close from the public +park and enter the shed half an hour before the fire; while Monkey +Brand, coming off the hill, on his return from the hunt, swore he had +seen him emerge from the shed as flames broke from the thatched roof.</p> + +<p>It was growing dusk at the time, and the distance was considerable, as +Monkey admitted, but the little jockey maintained with restraint and +emphasis that "he'd know that waddle anywheres."</p> + +<p>Joses did not go undefended. The fact of his value to the Three J's, if +ever in doubt, was proved beyond question by the fact that they paid a +good lawyer to keep him out of gaol. And it was notorious that the Three +J's never gave except where they got.</p> + +<p>Indeed, one of the funniest scenes at the trial took place when Ikey +Aaronsohnn, who it was said had returned post-haste from America for the +purpose, Jaggers, and Chukkers, one after the other, stood up in the +witness-box and gave evidence solemnly as to the character of the +accused.</p> + +<p>"Of course we know he <i>has</i> made a little mistake in the past, pore +chap," said Jaggers, who looked like an austere Stiggins. "But he's a +<i>good</i> man for all that."</p> + +<p>"A hopeful penitent," suggested the prosecuting counsel.</p> + +<p>"There's 'ope for all, I 'ope, sir," said Jaggers, with quiet manliness.</p> + +<p>The case against the accused seemed black; but he met it with +extraordinary courage and resource.</p> + +<p>He admitted that he had been in the shed at the time alleged.</p> + +<p>He said that he had gone there to smoke out of the wind, and admitted +further that he <i>had</i> set the shed on fire—by accident.</p> + +<p>When asked in court why, if he had set the shed on fire by accident, he +had run away, his defence was simple and convincing.</p> + +<p>He said he was afraid. He'd been in trouble before.</p> + +<p>"And once you've been in trouble, the police know you, and you never get +a chance. I got a panic, and I bolted—very foolishly."</p> + +<p>The defence evidently impressed both judge and jury. And had it been +simply a question of setting fire to the shed the accused might have got +off; but there was the further matter of Four-Pound-the-Second.</p> + +<p>How did the yearling come to be in the shed?</p> + +<p>Joses retorted that it was not for him to say; but he suggested that it +had come on to rain, and that the colt had sought shelter from the +storm.</p> + +<p>It was there that Silver came in.</p> + +<p>The papers said, and said truly, that the young banker gave his evidence +with obvious reluctance.</p> + +<p>"Was the colt in the shed when you came up?" asked the prosecuting +counsel.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Was it raining?"</p> + +<p>"It was drizzling."</p> + +<p>"Was the door shut?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"How was it shut?"</p> + +<p>"With a wooden latch."</p> + +<p>"That you lifted to let the colt out?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Could the wind have banged the door to?"</p> + +<p>"Possibly."</p> + +<p>"Could the latch have <i>fallen</i> into its place?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"What d'you think?"</p> + +<p>"I doubt it."</p> + +<p>In cross-examination the aim of the counsel for the defence was to show +that the evidence of the witness was unreliable because he was actuated +by personal malevolence against the accused.</p> + +<p>"Have you had words with the prisoner on more than one occasion?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"It was a word from you that put the police on to him in the first +instance?"</p> + +<p>"It was <i>not</i>," with warmth.</p> + +<p>"You found a knife you believed to belong to the prisoner in the shed +after the fire?"</p> + +<p>"Outside the shed."</p> + +<p>"And you took the knife to the police?"</p> + +<p>"I did not."</p> + +<p>"Where is the knife now?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"Who did you give it to?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Woodburn."</p> + +<p>The girl was called. Her evidence was very brief. Mr. Silver had given +her the knife. She had taken it to the cottage where the prisoner lodged +and handed it back to the woman there.</p> + +<p>To substantiate the charge that Mr. Silver was actuated by malice, the +counsel for the defence called evidence to prove the scene that had +taken place between the witness and the accused on the way to the meet.</p> + +<p>On this point the prisoner gave further evidence himself.</p> + +<p>"You met Mr. Silver later in the day?"</p> + +<p>"I did."</p> + +<p>"What happened?"</p> + +<p>"He rode at me and struck me."</p> + +<p>"What for?"</p> + +<p>"He said he'd show a —— convict how to speak to a gentleman; and he'd +get me put away."</p> + +<p>"Was anybody present?"</p> + +<p>The accused laughed.</p> + +<p>"No fear! He waited till he got me alone."</p> + +<p>"What time was this?"</p> + +<p>"About two-thirty."</p> + +<p>"Where?"</p> + +<p>"Just outside Prior's Wood."</p> + +<p>Mr. Silver, recalled by the prosecuting counsel, was re-examined as to +the facts alleged by Joses.</p> + +<p>"Did you strike the prisoner?"</p> + +<p>"I gave him one with the lash of my crop."</p> + +<p>"Under what circumstances?"</p> + +<p>The witness explained.</p> + +<p>"Did you say the words attributed to you?"</p> + +<p>"I did <i>not</i>."</p> + +<p>"Did any words pass between you?"</p> + +<p>There was a pause.</p> + +<p>"After I struck him, while he was messing about with his knife, he said: +'I'll do time for you!'"</p> + +<p>"Did you say anything?"</p> + +<p>There was another pause.</p> + +<p>"I said: 'What! More?'"</p> + +<p>In cross-examination the counsel for the defence asked the young banker +what he meant when he said to the prisoner—"'What! More?'"</p> + +<p>Silver was silent.</p> + +<p>"Were you referring to the fact that the accused had been in trouble?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And you're a sportsman?"</p> + +<p>No answer.</p> + +<p>"And a gentleman?"</p> + +<p>In his speech for the prosecution counsel pointed out that the motive +for the crime—the one point in doubt—had been established. Joses had +been a little too clever and had established it himself. He had supplied +the one missing link, and would be hung in a chain of his own making. +The two men had come to words and blows. Joses, smarting alike in body +and mind, had trotted home and, beside himself with rage and a desire +for revenge, had committed this most insensate and abominable crime.</p> + +<p>The jury found the prisoner guilty without leaving the box, and the +judge, who described the crime as deliberate, malignant, and the work of +a frustrated fiend, gave him a swinging sentence.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="PART_II" id="PART_II"></a>PART II<br /> + +THE WOMAN AND THE HORSE</h4> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="BOOK_IV" id="BOOK_IV"></a>BOOK IV<br /> + +THE TRIAL</h4> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX<br /> + +<span class="smcap">Albert Edward</span></h4> + + +<p>Four years had passed; but Maudie had not changed or aged.</p> + +<p>She lay in the sun on a step on the ladder, languid, insolent, concerned +only for herself. True the kennel beneath the ladder was empty now, and +had a rusty and pathetic air as of long disuse; but the +Monster-without-Manners was not dead, alas!—he had but changed his +abode. Now and for some years past the Great Unspeakable had shared a +kennel with the Four-Legs-Who-Might-Not-Walk-Alone; the one who there +was all this foolish fuss about. There were many such Four-Legs about, +each as a rule with a small Two-Legs in attendance or on top. As a +whole, they were harmless. They lived and let live, and Maudie asked no +more. But the Four-Legs with whom the Monster-without-Manners had +entered on a sinister intimacy had been corrupted by his companion. He +bounded, too, upon occasion. And when he bounded he was so big that he +seemed to fill the yard, sprawling here and there and everywhere, till +the walls bulged and burst, to the grave inconvenience of Maudie, the +fan-tails, and all sober citizens; while the Monster-without-Manners +<i>more suo</i>, encouraged him with coarse laughter.</p> + +<p>When the Four-Legs-Who-Might-Not-Walk-Alone bounded in the yard, Maudie +retired indignantly and with the grand air to safety in the loft. She +did not blame the Four-Legs. He was young, innocent, and the victim of +the impossible M.-w.-M., who was still the villain of her piece and had +not altered for the better with the years. Maybe he bounded less; but on +the other hand age had brought with it cunning.</p> + +<p>When Putnam's Only Gentleman had brought her a saucer of milk the +M.-w.-M. would approach with a great air of gallantry and high breeding, +and deliberately thrusting his great foot into the saucer, would upset +it. That was what the M.-w.-M. thought a joke.</p> + +<p>Apart from Maudie the yard was deserted now. The horses moved restlessly +in their loose-boxes, but there was no bustle of shirt-sleeved urchins +with buckets and pitchforks mucking them out. For it was Sunday morning, +and the lads were elsewhere.</p> + +<p>Arrayed on the long-backed roofs the fan-tails sidled, cooed, and +blinked in the sun. In a sycamore in the Paddock Close a hedge-sparrow +raised its thin sweet song, and the celandine lifted a pale and fragile +face under the beeches on the hillside. Hope was everywhere except in +Maudie's heart, for February was already on the wane.</p> + +<p>The back door of the house opened, and Mrs. Woodburn, grayer than of +old, stately and aproned, stood in it with a corn-measure in her hand, +and tossed showers of golden grain for the fan-tails who came fluttering +to her call.</p> + +<p>Albert, busy on his chin with a shaving brush, peeped surreptitiously +round the door of the saddle-room, and seeing Ma opposite withdrew +swiftly; but he kept the door ajar as though awaiting something he was +determined not to miss.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Woodburn retired indoors, and a few minutes later there came the +noisy clacking of a horse and cart entering the cobbled yard.</p> + +<p>Instantly Albert was all alert. He flung a towel about his neck and +looked out.</p> + +<p>An ostler from Lewes, known familiarly as Cherry, had pulled up a +dog-cart opposite the pump. The old horse stretched his neck, shook his +collar from his sweating shoulders, and, breathing on the water in the +trough, drank delicately.</p> + +<p>Mr. Silver descended from the cart.</p> + +<p>He marked the fair lad in the door of the saddle-room and greeted him in +his large and leisurely way:</p> + +<p>"Good morning, Albert," he said.</p> + +<p>"Morning, sir."</p> + +<p>"Where are the other lads?"</p> + +<p>"Where they ought to be, sir. In the Lads' Barn, waiting for Miss Boy."</p> + +<p>"And why aren't you there?" asked the young man, amused.</p> + +<p>Albert, in fact, spent all his spare time of late shaving. Indeed, he +was in the habit of informing those he called his colleagues that unless +he shaved three times a day he wasn't 'ardly decent.</p> + +<p>"I got to keep at it, sir," he confided now to Mr. Silver. "Else I gets +it from Miss Boy."</p> + +<p>"What d'you get from her?" asked the young man blandly. "A razor?"</p> + +<p>Old Cherry chuckled.</p> + +<p>"'E larders his chin and then scrapes the soap off," he said. "That +amooses Albert, that does."</p> + +<p>The insult left the lad cold; but that was less because the insult was a +feeble one than because his mind was elsewhere.</p> + +<p>His eyes and whole attention were on the back of the departing toff.</p> + +<p>There was something fascinating to Albert about that back this morning. +He followed the young man with the interest and the undisguised +admiration of a Paris gamin watching an aristocrat go to the guillotine.</p> + +<p>As the long back disappeared round a corner, the lad turned to Cherry +and winked.</p> + +<p>"Guts," he said.</p> + +<p>The ostler led the old horse with dripping muzzle away from the +water-trough. The expression on his face seemed to suggest that the +other was a vulgar fellow.</p> + +<p>"Did he talk?" asked Albert.</p> + +<p>"Talk!" said Cherry ironically. "To me? Likely, ain't it? He talked all +right. Only he never let on."</p> + +<p>Albert had picked up his towel, and was scrubbing away at his chin.</p> + +<p>"Plucky little feller," he said. "You'd never know."</p> + +<p>"He takes his gruel all right," admitted the other surlily, +unharnessing.</p> + +<p>"Yes, we've learned him his lesson since he's been at Putnam's," +reflected Albert.</p> + +<p>"'Ow long's he been training here then?" asked Cherry grudgingly, as he +coiled the traces.</p> + +<p>"Five year I've had him now," answered Albert. "He come to me the spring +afore Four-Pound-the-Second was foaled."</p> + +<p>Cherry led the old horse into the stable and put him into an empty +stall.</p> + +<p>"—— shame I call it," he said. "A nice feller like that."</p> + +<p>Albert watched him with folded arms.</p> + +<p>"I would, too," he said, "only it's Sunday, and Mar might hear."</p> + +<p>Cherry smirked.</p> + +<p>"Why ain't you at Bible Class then?" he asked grimly.</p> + +<p>The Bible Class at Putnam's was a standing joke along the South Downs +from Arunvale to Beachy Head.</p> + +<p>Albert swaggered.</p> + +<p>"I'm not takin' it this morning," he said. "I'm givin 'em a serees of +addresses on the 'Igher Life when the jumpin' season's over."</p> + +<p>The little ostler looked at his watch.</p> + +<p>"You'd better step it," he said, "you and your Hired Life. It's past +eleben and the bells have stopped. If you ain't there before her, you'll +get the stick, you will."</p> + +<p>Albert moved slowly up the gangway behind the loose-boxes, unheeding the +other's taunts.</p> + +<p>"I reck'n they've took a couple o' million off of him since Christmas," +he said, returning to the subject which he could not leave. "And I got +to get it back for him."</p> + +<p>"Indeed?" said Cherry ironically. "'Ow? Tellin' lies and gettin' paid +for 'em?"</p> + +<p>Albert opened the door of a loose-box and pointed dramatically.</p> + +<p>Cherry stared at the brown horse within.</p> + +<p>Albert whistled softly and the horse turned his long neck and gazed at +them with wise and quizzical eye. "Ain't he a big un?" cried Cherry, the +note of irony dropping from his voice in spite of himself.</p> + +<p>Billy Bluff, who had been curled under the manger, came across the +loose-box and sniffed the little ostler friendly.</p> + +<p>"'Ullo, Billy!" said the old man. "Do you sleep in here?"</p> + +<p>"Won't sleep nowhere else," answered Albert. "And what's more, Four +Pound won't sleep unless his pal's with him. They've always had this +loose-box atween 'em from the start. Miss Boy used to sleep in here, +too, when he was a foal." The youth dropped his swank, and became +confidential and keen. "Wonderful close friends, them two, you wouldn't +believe. Four Pound had a cracked heel last autumn, and I used to +bandage him at nights. He didn't like the bandages, and every night +after I'd rugged him up and left him, Billy'd take and unwind the lot. +Didn't you, Billy?"</p> + +<p>He shut the door.</p> + +<p>"Who's goin' to ride him?" asked Cherry.</p> + +<p>"Me or Monkey," said Albert. "'Taint settled yet. Will be this morning."</p> + +<p>He led along toward the saddle-room.</p> + +<p>"You got your work cut if you're goin' to beat <i>her</i>," said Cherry.</p> + +<p>"No fear!" answered Albert. "Got the Sunday paper? What are they +layin'?"</p> + +<p>"Sevens the favourite," replied the old ostler, producing it. "The rest +any price."</p> + +<p>The youth glanced at the betting news.</p> + +<p>"Sevens it is," he said. "Price shortening. I suppose the stable's got +all the money they want on her, and so they don't bother to tell no more +lies."</p> + +<p>Albert opened the saddle-room door. Cherry passed in. The lad followed, +and locked the door behind him.</p> + +<p>"Now don't mind me," he said. "I'm busy."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX<br /> + +<span class="smcap">The Bible Class</span></h4> + + +<p>In the old days, when Mat had been in his prime, there had not seldom +been as many as a hundred horses on occasion billeted in and around +Putnam's.</p> + +<p>At that time Mat had done a bit of dealing in addition to his training, +and had kept hunters as well as 'chasers.</p> + +<p>The Lads' Barn, as it was called, was at the back of the old +hunter-stables, somewhat removed from the yard, and opening on to the +Paddock Close.</p> + +<p>It was big, black, with red-tiled roof, raftered, and ideal for its +purpose; for it served as the Lads' Club, instituted by Mrs. Woodburn +when first she came to live at Putnam's. Here in winter they had +singsongs, dances, and entertainments; and in the summer they played +games, read, and held their committee meetings.</p> + +<p>At one end was a mattress, a wooden horse, parallel bars and rings, and +the ordinary appurtenances of a Boys' Club; at the other a raised +platform, and on it a blackboard and harmonium.</p> + +<p>Now some twenty lads were gathered in the barn, waiting for Miss +Woodburn to take the Bible Class.</p> + +<p>To-day the girl for once was late. And the lads were glad. They had +plenty to talk about this morning, and they welcomed an opportunity for +misconduct at this time all the more because it rarely offered. There +was a delicious relish about wrongdoing in the one hour a week devoted +to seeking good and ensuing it.</p> + +<p>Some of them were smoking, some playing cards.</p> + +<p>Both acts were forbidden—the latter absolutely, the former in the main; +for no lad under seventeen years was allowed to smoke in the Putnam +stable.</p> + +<p>The consequence was that the lads over the age limit bought and owned +the cigarettes, and with fine capitalist instinct let them out to the +youngsters at a farthing the puff. Albert when under age had instituted +the puff, and when over it had organized the tariff. By the +puff-a-farthing method the cigarettes could not be confiscated, for they +belonged only to those who had a prescriptive right to them, while the +puffers, with a little cunning, were able to enjoy illicit smokes.</p> + +<p>Jerry, the economist with the corrugated brow, and Stanley the stupid, +both with cigarettes in their mouths, were standing apart in lofty +isolation, as befitted the fathers of the flock.</p> + +<p>A cherub-faced urchin, playing cards, and deep in his play, was humming +abstractedly the chorus of a catchy song.</p> + +<p>Stanley nudged his pal, strolled up behind the youth, and boxed his +ears.</p> + +<p>The whistler rose and rubbed his ear, aggrieved.</p> + +<p>"What's that for?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Stanley scowled down at him.</p> + +<p>"Whistlin' that at Putnam's o' Sunday."</p> + +<p>"What were I whistlin' then?" asked the aggrieved urchin.</p> + +<p>"Mocassin Song," said the haughty Stan. "Now no more of it!"</p> + +<p>"I didn't know I were whistlin' it," replied the youth.</p> + +<p>"He whistles it in his dreams, Alf does," explained a little pal. "It's +got to his head."</p> + +<p>"He won't 'ave no 'ead to dream with if he mocassins us," retorted Stan.</p> + +<p>The wrong righted, and order restored, Stanley stalked majestically back +to his pal with a wink.</p> + +<p>"Where's Albert then?" asked Jerry.</p> + +<p>"He said he wasn't comin'."</p> + +<p>"He's been sayin' that every Sunday these ten year past," answered Jerry +with the insolence of the ancient habitué. "Ere, one o' you kids, fetch +me a bit o' chalk. I 'ate to see you idlin' your time away, gamblin' and +dicin', like the Profligate Son when he broke the bank at Monte Carlo."</p> + +<p>He mounted the platform.</p> + +<p>"While Ginger's gettin' the chalk I'll ask you a question or two to +testify your general knowledge."</p> + +<p>He took the cigarette out of his mouth, and wriggled his chin above his +high collar.</p> + +<p>"Who done Mr. Silver down?" he asked pontifically.</p> + +<p>There was a moment's silence. Then a hand went up.</p> + +<p>"Chukkers," piped the cherub-faced urchin.</p> + +<p>There was a jeer from the other lads, and even the proud Stanley deigned +to smile.</p> + +<p>"Alf's got Chukkers on the crumpet," Jerry said sardonically. "If there +was a nearthquake and they ask Alf who done it, he'd say Chukkers."</p> + +<p>"Well, he's up to all sorts," retorted the wise cherub.</p> + +<p>Jerry repeated his original question.</p> + +<p>"Who done Mr. Silver down?"</p> + +<p>"Jews," ventured a sporting youth.</p> + +<p>This answer met with more approval.</p> + +<p>"That's more like," said Jerry. "Now 'ow can he get back on 'em?"</p> + +<p>"Bash 'em," suggested the sportsman, encouraged by his previous success. +"He's bigger nor them, I'll lay."</p> + +<p>The lecturer on the platform lifted a protesting hand.</p> + +<p>"You mustn't bash 'em, boy Jackson," he said. "Tain't accordin' to +religion—at least not the religion what I'm here to teach you. No," +said the preacher of righteousness, "you mustn't bash 'em. That'd never +do."</p> + +<p>"What then?" piped the cherub.</p> + +<p>"You must lay for him," answered the moralist.</p> + +<p>Alf was on his feet in a trice.</p> + +<p>"At the Canal Turn," he chirped. "Bump him off and then jump on the flat +of his face."</p> + +<p>The moralist greeted the suggestion with warm approval.</p> + +<p>"One up to Alfie!" he cried. "He'll make a jockey and a Christian yet, +Alf will."</p> + +<p>Ginger handed up a piece of chalk.</p> + +<p>Jerry hushed his audience.</p> + +<p>"Quiet now, <i>if</i> you please," said he.</p> + +<p>He took the chalk and wrote up in sprawling letters on the board:</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 15em;"><i>Bible Class.</i></span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 13em;"><i>First Question. What price Four-Pound-the-Second, Grand National?</i></span></p> + +<p>Instantly there was a hub-bub, from which the words "Hundred to one" +came with insistent force.</p> + +<p>"Hundred to one," said the lecturer. "Thank you, genelmen."</p> + +<p>He proceeded to write.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 15em;"><i>Second Question. Any takers?</i></span></p> + +<p>"Yus," said the lofty Stanley. "I'll do it in dollars—twice over."</p> + +<p>"Thank <i>you</i>," said the scribe.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 13em;"><i>Third Question. What price Mocassin?</i></span></p> + +<p>The name was received with groans.</p> + +<p>"Sevens—if Chukkers rides," cried the cherub. "Tens if he don't."</p> + +<p>The answer was received with jeers.</p> + +<p>"Chukkers <i>not</i> ride!"</p> + +<p>"O' course he'll ride!"</p> + +<p>"He always has ridden her—here and in the States and in Australia!"</p> + +<p>Stanley finally deigned to descend from his heights to crush the youth.</p> + +<p>"They got a quarter of a million on God Almighty's Mustang, the Three +J's 'ave. Think they'd trust anyone up only one of their fat selves? Now +then!"</p> + +<p>In the middle of the storm Monkey Brand, who had been waiting for the +girl in the door, looked in.</p> + +<p>He saw the writing on the board and crossed the barn. Monkey himself +could neither read nor write, but he was well aware that anything +written by the lads should be rubbed out at once.</p> + +<p>"Who wrote this?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Jerry, who on the other's entrance had descended swiftly from the +platform, repeated the question.</p> + +<p>"Who wrote this?" he asked authoritatively. "Can't you 'ear Mr. Brand?"</p> + +<p>"Albert, I reck'n," answered Stanley, taking his cue from his pal.</p> + +<p>The door opened, and a girl stood on the threshold.</p> + +<p>"Who said Albert?" she asked.</p> + +<p>The lads turned.</p> + +<p>The young lady wore a long drab coat and had a fair pig-tail. She was +like Boy Woodburn and yet unlike her: the figure much the same, the +colouring identical. But if it was Boy, the years had coarsened her and +altered the expression in her eyes not for the better.</p> + +<p>With swift, decisive steps she made for the platform amid the suppressed +giggles of the lads.</p> + +<p>Jerry made way for her at once.</p> + +<p>The girl proceeded to rub out with the duster all the questions but the +first. Then she turned over the leaves of a Bible, wetting her thumb for +that purpose, seized the pointer, and took her stand by the blackboard.</p> + +<p>"The first question that arises h'out of h'our lesson to-day," she began +quietly, "is this 'ere—'<i>What price Four-Pound-the-Second?</i>' Now think +afore you answers, there's good little fellers."</p> + +<p>It was Jerry who held up his hand.</p> + +<p>The girl pointed at him.</p> + +<p>"You there, Jerry me boy."</p> + +<p>"Depends on who rides him, Mrs. Chukkers," he said.</p> + +<p>There was a deadly silence. In it the girl let the handle of the pointer +fall with the noise of a grounded rifle.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Who?" she asked, fatally quiet.</p> + +<p>"Chukkers, ma'am," answered the courteous Jerry.</p> + +<p>"Go on then," sneered the girl. "Chukkers ain't married. Nobody won't +'ave him."</p> + +<p>Jerry had risen.</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am. That he ain't," said the polished little gentleman. "You're +his mother—from Sacramento. Anyone could see that by the likeness. +You're the spit of each other, if I might make so bold. And I'm sure," +said the orator, "speakin' on be'alf of all present, meself included, we +feel honoured by the presence in our umble midst of the mother of the +famous 'orseman—Chukkers Childers."</p> + +<p>In the silence the speaker resumed his seat.</p> + +<p>The lady addressed was too busy to reply.</p> + +<p>She was taking off her drab coat, her picture hat, and her pig-tail, and +she was spitting in her hands.</p> + +<p>Soaping them together, she came to the edge of the platform.</p> + +<p>"Shall I come down and give it you?" she asked. "Or will you come up and +fetch it?"</p> + +<p>"Neever, thank you," said Jerry, puffing imperturbably.</p> + +<p>Albert jumped down.</p> + +<p>"You're for it, Jerry," said Stanley, glad it was his friend's turn this +time.</p> + +<p>"Not me," Jerry replied. "No scrappin' Sunday. Miss Boy's orders."</p> + +<p>Albert, very white, was sparring all round his adversary's head.</p> + +<p>"Chukkered me, did ye?" he said. "Put 'em up then, or I'll spoil ye."</p> + +<p>The offence was the unforgiveable in the Putnam stable, and the watching +lads had every hope of a battle royal when a calm, deep voice stilled +the storm.</p> + +<p>"That'll do," it said.</p> + +<p>The real Boy entered.</p> + +<p>The dark blue of her dress showed off her fair colouring and hair.</p> + +<p>She was nearly twenty-one now and spiritually a woman, if she still +retained the slight, sword-like figure of her girlhood days. Her face +was graver than of old and more quiet. The touch of almost aggressive +resolution and defiance it once possessed had shaded off into something +stiller and more impressive. There was less show of strength and more +evidence of it. Her roots were deeper, and she was therefore less moved +by passing winds. Something of her mother's calm had invaded her. She +got her way just as of old, but she no longer had to battle for it now +as then. Or if she had to battle, the fight was invisible, and the +victory fought and won in the unseen deeps of her being.</p> + +<p>"Who's been smoking here?" the girl asked immediately on entering the +barn.</p> + +<p>"Me, Miss," said Jerry.</p> + +<p>Monkey Brand was fond of affirming that on the whole the lads told the +truth to Miss Boy. But whether it was the girl's personality or her +horsemanship that accounted for this departure from established rule it +was hard to surmise.</p> + +<p>"You might leave that to Jaggers's lads," said the girl. "Surely we +might keep this one hour in the week clean."</p> + +<p>Mr. Haggard had once said that the girl was a Greek. He might have +added—a Greek with an evangelical tendency. For this Sunday morning +hour was no perfunctory exercise for her. It was a reality, looming +always larger with the years, and on horseback, in the train, at +stables, was perpetually recurring to the girl throughout the week.</p> + +<p>In the struggle between her father and her mother in her blood, the +mother was winning the ascendancy.</p> + +<p>"I thought the rule was we might smoke if you was late, Miss," said +Jerry, in the subdued voice he always adopted when speaking to his young +mistress.</p> + +<p>"It's not the rule, Jerry," the girl replied quietly, "as you're +perfectly well aware. And even if it was the rule it would be bad +manners. Alfred, give me those cards."</p> + +<p>"What cards, Miss?"</p> + +<p>"The cards you were playing with when I came in."</p> + +<p>The cherub produced a dingy pack.</p> + +<p>"They're only picture cards, Miss," he said.</p> + +<p>The girl's gray eyes seemed to engulf the lad, friendly if a little +stern.</p> + +<p>"Have you been gambling?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"No, Miss," with obvious truthfulness.</p> + +<p>"He's got nothin' to gamble with," jeered the brutal Stanley. "His +mother takes it all."</p> + +<p>The girl mounted swiftly on to the platform, saw the writing on the +blackboard, and swept it away with a duster.</p> + +<p>Then she turned to her little congregation, feeling their temper with +sure and sensitive spirit.</p> + +<p>They were out of hand, and it was because she had been late through no +fault of her own. The kitchenmaid had fainted, and Boy had, of course, +been sent for.</p> + +<p>There was one hope of steadying them.</p> + +<p>"We'll start with a hymn," she said, taking her seat at the harmonium. +"Get your hymn-books. What hymn shall we have? Alfred, it's your turn, I +think."</p> + +<p>Alfred, after some hesitation, gave <i>The Day Thou Gavest Lord Is Ended</i>, +amid the jealous murmurs of his friend.</p> + +<p>"That's a nevenin nymn, fat-'ead," cried Jerry in a loud whisper.</p> + +<p>"I don't care if it is," answered Alf stoutly. "It's nice."</p> + +<p>"'E likes it because it makes him cry," jeered Stanley.</p> + +<p>The girl started to play, her back to the congregation.</p> + +<p>They sang two verses with round mouths, Jerry and Stanley shouting +against each other aggressively and wagging their heads. The third verse +went less well. There were interruptions. The voices grew ragged. Jerry +spoke; somebody whistled; and the singing ran away into giggles.</p> + +<p>Boy swung round.</p> + +<p>The cause of the merriment was sufficiently obvious.</p> + +<p>A lop-eared Belgian rabbit was hopping across the floor, entirely +self-complacent and smug. As the sound of singing, which had covered him +like a garment, died away in smothered titters, he sat up on his +hind-legs and stared about him.</p> + +<p>The girl descended from the platform, caught the rabbit by the ears and +suspended him.</p> + +<p>Tame as a cow, he made no resistance.</p> + +<p>"Who's is this hare?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Woodburn's, Miss," answered Jerry brightly. "That's Abe Lincoln. +Queen Victoria's his wife. They lives together in a nutch."</p> + +<p>"How did he come in?"</p> + +<p>"Through the window," said the muffled voice of Albert from the back. +"Flow'd."</p> + +<p>The rabbit, which had been hanging placidly suspended, was now seized +with spasms and began to twitch and contort violently.</p> + +<p>The reason was not far to seek. A red-eyed ferret, tied by a string to +the foot of a chair, was making strenuous efforts to get at him.</p> + +<p>"Who's is that ferret?" asked Boy.</p> + +<p>"That genelman's," replied the voice from the back.</p> + +<p>The girl looked up and saw Silver standing in the door.</p> + +<p>Coldly she dismissed the class.</p> + +<p>"That'll do," she said. "You can all go now." The lads shuffled away, +rejoicing. "There'll be no sing-song this evening," continued their +cruel mistress. "Jerry, put that rabbit back in the hutch you took it +from. Stanley, I don't want to see that ferret of yours at Bible Class +again."</p> + +<p>The lads trooped out, injured and innocent.</p> + +<p>Albert was left in his shirt-sleeves and without a collar.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" asked the girl.</p> + +<p>"Can I 'ave me things, Miss?"</p> + +<p>His face was stiff and impenetrable.</p> + +<p>She handed him the long drab coat on the platform.</p> + +<p>"And me 'at, Miss."</p> + +<p>"Is this yours?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Miss."</p> + +<p>She passed him the picture-hat. Albert received it with immobile face.</p> + +<p>"And me pig-tail."</p> + +<p>"You don't deserve it," said Boy.</p> + +<p>Silver approached.</p> + +<p>"Put 'em on, will you?" he said.</p> + +<p>Albert obeyed without demur and without a symptom of emotion. In a +moment he had become a coarse caricature of his young mistress, +ludicrously alike and yet worlds away.</p> + +<p>"Not so bad," commented the young man. "You could act, Albert?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said Albert, in whom diffidence was not a defect.</p> + +<p>The lad made for the door in his hat and pig-tail, and as though to +manifest his quality gave a little coquettish flirt to the skirt of his +coat as he went out.</p> + +<p>"You'll be wanted this morning, Albert, you and Brand," the girl called +after him.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Miss."</p> + +<p>"Mare's Back. Twelve-thirty. Make-Way-There and Lollypop, trial horses. +Stanley and Jerry know. Silvertail for me."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Miss."</p> + +<p>He closed the door behind him.</p> + +<p>Silver came toward the girl slowly and took her hand.</p> + +<p>"How are you, Boy?" he asked.</p> + +<p>The girl laid her firm, cool little hand lightly on his and let it rest +there. Her eyes were soft in his, still and steady. She felt herself +surrounded by his love as by a cloud, and dwelt in it with quiet +enjoyment and content.</p> + +<p>It was a while before she answered.</p> + +<p>"I'm all right," she said. "You're through, aren't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I'm free."</p> + +<p>"That's right," she said. "The rest doesn't matter."</p> + +<p>Together they went out into the sunshine of the Paddock Close.</p> + +<p>He stood a moment, filling his chest, and looking up toward the green +wall of the Downs.</p> + +<p>"Let's go slow," he said.</p> + +<p>She accommodated herself to his stroll.</p> + +<p>"By Jove," he said slowly. "It <i>is</i> a delight to get down here again. +And I don't feel anything's changed really."</p> + +<p>"Nor has it <i>really</i>," replied the girl.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI<br /> + +<span class="smcap">God Almighty's Mustang</span></h4> + + +<p>Jim Silver turned out of the yard into the office.</p> + +<p>As the young man entered, the old trainer sat dumped in his chair, rosy, +bald, with innocent blue eyes, like a baby without a bib, waiting for +its bottle. His round head was deeper between his shoulders than of old, +and his pink face was strained and solicitous.</p> + +<p>Some men said he was over eighty now.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir," he wheezed, "I see you take it good and game."</p> + +<p>"No good crying over spilt milk," replied Silver.</p> + +<p>The old trainer raised his hand as he settled in his seat.</p> + +<p>"Don't tell me," he said. "It's them there li'bilities. I was always +agin 'em. Said so to Boy four year back. 'Cash in 'and's one thing,' I +says. 'And li'bilities is another and totally different.'" He lifted a +keen blue eye. "I understand from what Mr. Haggard tell me, you could +ha' dodged 'em out o' some of it—only you was too straight." He held up +a disapproving finger. "That's just where you done wrong, Mr. Silver. No +good ever come o' bein' <i>too</i> straight, as I often says to Mar. You're +only askin' for trouble—same as the Psalmist says. And now you got to +pay for it."</p> + +<p>"Well, they're all satisfied now," laughed Silver. "And so am I."</p> + +<p>"I should think they was," snorted Mat Woodburn. "I see 'em settin' +round, swellin' and swellin', and rubbin' their fat paunches. Think +they'll keep a nag among the lot of 'em! Not so much as a broken-down +towel-hoss."</p> + +<p>Silver stared out of the window.</p> + +<p>"I shall have to sell the horses," he said.</p> + +<p>The old man banged the table.</p> + +<p>"Never!" he cried. "They've took a slice off o' you, and now you must +take a bit off o' them. That mayn't be religion, but it's <i>right</i> all +right!"</p> + +<p>He rose and, kicking off his slippers, padded to the door and looked +out. Then he peeped out into the forsaken yard and half drew the +curtain.</p> + +<p>Silver, who loved the old man most when he was most mysterious, watched +him with kind eyes that laughed.</p> + +<p>"I don't bet, Mr. Silver, as you know," began the other huskily, "except +when it's a cert., because it's against <i>her</i> principles." He looked +round him and dropped his voice. "But I took a thousand to ten about +Fo'-Pound-the-Second at Gatwick on Saraday. Told Mar, too. And she never +said No. Look to me like a sign like." He blinked up at the young man. +"You ain't clean'd out, sir, are you—not mopped up with the sponge?" he +asked anxiously.</p> + +<p>"There'll be a few thousands left when it's finished, I guess," replied +the other.</p> + +<p>The old man lifted on his stockinged toes.</p> + +<p>"Put a thousand on," he whispered. "I'll do it for ye, so there's no +talk. If he wins, thar's a hundred thousand back. If he don't, well, +it's gone down the sink and h'up the spout same as its fathers afore +it."</p> + +<p>The young man brimmed with quiet mirth.</p> + +<p>"Will he win?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Old Mat swung his nose from side to side across his face in a way styled +by those who knew him trunk-slinging.</p> + +<p>"He's up against something mighty big," said Jim, nodding at the wall.</p> + +<p>On it was pinned a great coloured double-page picture from <i>The Sporting +and Dramatic</i> of the famous American mare Mocassin. Beside it were +various cuttings from daily papers, recounting the romantic history of +the popular favourite, and beneath the picture were three lines from the +Mocassin Song—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;"><i>Made in the mould,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;"><i>Of Old Iroquois bold,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;"><i>Mocassin, the Queen of Kentucky</i>.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Ikey indeed had found his horse at last; and she was American—Old +Kentucky to the core. It was said that Chukkers had discovered her on +one of his trips home. Certainly he had taken her across to Australia, +where she had launched on her career of unbroken triumph, carrying the +star-spangled jacket to victory in every race in which she ran. Then he +had brought her home to England, her reputation already made, and +growing hugely all the while, suddenly to overwhelm the world, when she +crowned her victories on three continents by winning the Grand National +at Liverpool—only to be disqualified for crossing amid one of the +stormiest scenes in racing history. After that Mocassin ceased to be a +mare. She became a talisman, an oriflamme, a consecrated symbol. She was +American—youthful, hopeful, not to be put upon by the Old Country, +quietly resolute to have her rights.</p> + +<p>For the past twelve months indeed the Great Republic of the West had +fixed her two hundred million eyes upon the star-spangled jacket across +the sea in a stare so set as to be almost terrifying.</p> + +<p>True that for a quarter of a century now her sons had followed that +jacket with sporadic interest. But since the affair at Liverpool, that +interest had become concentrated, passionate, intense.</p> + +<p>Ikey with all his faults was an admirable citizen, beloved in his own +country and not without cause, as Universities and Public Bodies +innumerable could testify. For twenty-five years it had been known that +he had been trying for a goal. At last he had won it—and then John +Bull!... Ya-as.... American horse—American owner—American jockey! +Sure....</p> + +<p>Brother Jonathon turned in his lips. He did not blame John Bull; he was +not angry or resentful. But he was determined and above all ironical.</p> + +<p>Then, when feeling was at its highest, the Mocassin Song had suddenly +taken America by storm. Sung first in the Empire Theatre on the Broadway +by Abe Gideon, the bark-blocks comedian, ten days after the mare's +victory and defeat, it had raged through the land like a prairie fire. +Cattle-men on the Mexican Border sung it in the chaparral, and the +lumber-camps by the Great Lakes echoed it at night. Gramophones carried +it up and down the Continent from Oyster Bay to Vancouver, and from +Frisco to New Orleans. Every street-boy whistled it, every organ ground +it out. It hummed in the heads of Senators in Congress, and teased +saints upon their knees. It carried the name and fame of Mocassin to +thousands of pious homes in which horses and racing had been anathema +in the past, so that Ministers from Salem and Quaker ladies from +Philadelphia could tell you over tea cups <i>sotto voce</i> something of the +romantic story of the mare from the Cumberland.</p> + +<p>And that was not all.</p> + +<p>The Song, raging through the land like a bush-fire, dying down here only +to burst out in fresh vehemence elsewhere, leapt even oceans in its +tempestuous course.</p> + +<p>The English sang it in their music-halls with fatuous self-complacency. +Indeed they, too, went Mocassin-mad, and the mare who had once already +humbled the Old Country in the dust, and would again, became the idol of +the British Empire.</p> + +<p>In shop-windows, on boardings, stamped on the packet of cigarettes you +bought, the picture of the mare was met, until her keen mouse-head, her +drooping quarters and great fore-hand, had been impressed on the mind of +the English Public as clearly as the features of Lord Kitchener. +Jonathon watched his brother across the Atlantic with cynical amusement.</p> + +<p>Honest John Bull, now that he had something up against him that could +beat his best, what did he do? Admit defeat? Not John! If the mare won +in the coming struggle he claimed her as his own with tears of unctuous +joy. If she was beaten—well, what else did you expect?</p> + +<p>America's feeling in the matter was summed up in the famous cartoon that +appeared at Christmas in <i>Life</i>, where Jonathon was seen shaking hands +with John Bull, the mare in the background, and saying:</p> + +<p>"I'll believe in you, John, but I'll watch you all the same."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"That's God Almighty's Mustang, Chukkers up," said Old Mat. "The Three +J's think they done it this time. And to read the papers you'd guess +they was right. She's a good mare, too—I will say that for her; quick +as a kitten and the heart of a lion. You see her last year yourself at +Aintree, sir!"</p> + +<p>"I did," replied the young man, with deep enthusiasm. "Wonderful! She +didn't gallop and jump; she flowed and she flew."</p> + +<p>"That's it, sir," agreed the other. "Won all the way. Only Chukkers must +be a bit too clever o' course, and let her down by the dirty."</p> + +<p>The old man pursed his lips and nodded confidentially. "Only one thing. +My little Fo'-Pound's the daddy o' her." He sat down and began to draw +on his elastic-sided boots with groans.</p> + +<p>"Who's going to ride him?" asked Silver.</p> + +<p>"That's where it is, sir," panted the old man. "Who <i>is</i> goin' to ride +him. There's Monkey Brand down on his knees to me for the mount; and he +don't go so bad with Monkey Brand—when he's that way inclined. But I +don't know what to say." His efforts successfully ended, he lifted a +round and crimson face. "See where it is, Mr. Silver; Monkey Brand's +forty-five, and his ridin' days are pretty nigh over. He reckons he can +just about win on Fo'-Pound and then retire. That's his notion. And ye +see it ain't only that, but there's Chukkers and the little bit o' +bitterness. See it's been goin' on twenty year and it's all square now. +Chukkers broke Monkey's pelvis for him Boomerang's year, and Monkey +mixed up Chukkers's inside Cannibal's National. And there it's stood +ever since. And Monkey wants to get one up afore he takes off his jacket +for good."</p> + +<p>Silver was looking into the fire.</p> + +<p>"If Monkey Brand don't ride, what's the alternative?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Only one," replied the trainer. "Albert. He's a honest hoss is +Fo'-Pound-the-Second, only that fussy as to who he has about him. That's +the way with bottle-fed uns. They gets spoiled and gives 'emselves airs. +Albert's his lad, and Monkey's been about him since he was a foal. +Sometimes he'll work for one, and sometimes for the other; and sometimes +he won't for eether. One thing certain, he won't stir for no one +else—only <i>her</i>, o' course. No muckin' about with <i>her</i>. It's just +<i>click!</i> and away."</p> + +<p>"Pity she can't ride," said Silver.</p> + +<p>"If she could ride I'd back him till all was blue," replied the old man. +"No proposition in a hoss's skin that ever come out of Yankee-doodle-land +could see the way he'd go."</p> + +<p>"Who rode him at Lingfield?" asked Jim.</p> + +<p>Just after Christmas Mat had put the young horse into a two-mile +steeplechase to give him a gallop in public.</p> + +<p>"Albert," answered the old man. "Rode him and rode him well. It was just +touch and go through. Would he or wouldn't he? When he was monkeyin' at +the post I tell you I sweat, sir. See he'd never faced the starter +afore. And I thought suppose he's the sort that'll do a good trial and +chuck it when the money's on. He got well left at the post; but when he +did get goin' he ran a great horse. It was heavy goin', and he fair +revelled in it. 'Reg'lar mudlark,' the papers called him. Half-way round +he'd caught his horses and went through 'em like a knife through butter, +and he could ha' left 'em smilin'. But that lad, Albert, he's got +something better'n a sheep's head on his neck. Took to his whip and +flogg'd his boot a caution. Oh, dear me!—fair sat down to it. All over +the place, arms and legs, and such a face on him! And little Fo'-Pound +he winks to 'isself and rolls 'ome at the top of his form just anyhow. +'Alf a length the judges gave it, and a punishin' finish the papers +called it. Jaggers didn't see it, and Chukkers wasn't ridin'. So there +was nobody to tell no tales; an' they're puttin' him in at ten stone."</p> + +<p>"And the mare's got twelve-seven," said the young man meditatively.</p> + +<p>"Twelve-three," said the trainer. "And she'll carry it, too. But I'll +back my Berserk against their Iroquois any time o' day this side o' +'Appy Alleloojah Land."</p> + +<p>The hacks were being led out into the yard with a pleasant clatter of +feet, and Boy was already mounted.</p> + +<p>"Come and see for yourself," panted the old man. "I'm goin' to send him +along to-day. See whether he can reelly get four mile without a fuss. I +was only waitin' till you come."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII<br /> + +<span class="smcap">The Fat Man Emerges</span></h4> + + +<p>The old man, the young man, and the girl rode out of the yard into the +Paddock Close.</p> + +<p>"Where's Billy Bluff?" asked Silver. He was on Heart of Oak, she high +above him, perched like a bird on tall old Silvertail, who looked like a +spinster and was one. Almost you expected her to look at you over +spectacles and make an acrid comment on men or things.</p> + +<p>"In front with his friend," replied Boy.</p> + +<p>"Are you going to pace him?" asked Jim.</p> + +<p>"I believe so," replied the girl casually. "Dad's going to send him the +full course to-day. Jerry and I are to take him over the fences the +first time round. And then Stanley's to bring him along the flat the +last two miles."</p> + +<p>They travelled up the public path past the church amid the sycamores. +Mat on his fast-walking cob rode in front, kicking his legs. Boy and Jim +followed more soberly.</p> + +<p>She rode a little behind him that she might see his profile. Suddenly he +reined back and met her face, his own gleaming with laughter. At such +moments he looked absurdly young.</p> + +<p>"I say, Boy!" he began, dropping his voice.</p> + +<p>She snatched her eyes from his face, and then peeped at him warily.</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>He drew up beside her.</p> + +<p>"I'm not a gentleman any more."</p> + +<p>She looked straight before her. Her fine lips were firm and resisting, +but about her eyes the light stole and rippled deliciously.</p> + +<p>"I'm not sure," she said, half to herself.</p> + +<p>He pressed up alongside her, lifting his face.</p> + +<p>"I'm not!" he cried. "I'm not!" eager as a boy in his protestations. +"You can't chuck that up at me any more."</p> + +<p>Boy refused to face him or to be convinced.</p> + +<p>"I don't," she said. "I don't believe in class. It's the man that +matters."</p> + +<p>"Hear, hear," he cried. "It's the man—not the money. I see it now. I +haven't got tuppence to my name."</p> + +<p>She turned her eyes down on him, brushing aside his coquetry with the +sweep of her steady gaze.</p> + +<p>"D'you mind?" she asked in her direct and simple way as they emerged on +to the open Downs.</p> + +<p>He sobered to her mood.</p> + +<p>"Only in this way," he answered, "that it was my father's show, and I +don't like to have let it down."</p> + +<p>The girl deliberated.</p> + +<p>"I don't see that you could have helped it," she said after a pause.</p> + +<p>"No, <i>I</i> couldn't," he admitted. "<i>He</i> could have. It was a One Man +show. And when the One Man went it was bound to go in time. However, +I've let nobody down but myself. And I don't care so much about the +stuff."</p> + +<p>"No," she said. "You don't want all that. Nobody does; and it's not good +for you."</p> + +<p>Preacher Joe had bobbed up suddenly in his fair grand-daughter, as he +did not seldom. She was deliciously unaware of the old man's presence at +her side; but Jim Silver welcomed him as a familiar with lurking +laughter.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, sir," he said, and touched his hat. Then he covered his +daring swiftly. "Except for the horses I wouldn't cuc-care a hang," he +said loudly. "They were the only things mum-money gave me."</p> + +<p>Gravely she peeped at him again.</p> + +<p>"Shall you sell the lot?"</p> + +<p>"I shall sell the 'chasers," he answered.</p> + +<p>"All but one," she corrected.</p> + +<p>"Which one?"</p> + +<p>She nodded up the hill.</p> + +<p>"The one you share with me."</p> + +<p>He laughed his resounding laughter.</p> + +<p>"I'll sell you my share," he said.</p> + +<p>"I won't buy," she answered firmly.</p> + +<p>"Very well. Then I'll sell to Jaggers."</p> + +<p>Boy tapped Silvertail with such an increase of emphasis that the old +mare snatched resentfully at her bit.</p> + +<p>"You won't," she cried with the old fierce, girlish note in her voice +which so delighted him.</p> + +<p>"<i>After</i> he's won the National," continued the young man calmly.</p> + +<p>"We'll see—<i>after</i>," replied Boy.</p> + +<p>They passed out of the Paddock Close on to the Downs.</p> + +<p>"How's he coming on?" asked Jim.</p> + +<p>"Monkey Brand says he's streets better than Cannibal," replied the girl. +"We've never had anything to touch him in my time." This was one of few +subjects on which the girl sometimes would flow. "Of course he's young +for a National horse—only five, and she's in her prime. But he's got +the head of an old horse on the body of a young one. Nothing flurries +him—once you can get him going."</p> + +<p>"And the trouble is there's only one person who can get him going," +mused the young man.</p> + +<p>"I don't know about that," she answered tartly. "He's only run the once +in public. And that time he ran rings round his field. Albert was +riding—not me."</p> + +<p>They were nearing the brow.</p> + +<p>A man was labouring up the hill in front of them.</p> + +<p>Old Mat pulled up, and the pair jogged up alongside him. The trainer +nodded quietly at the heavy figure in front.</p> + +<p>"He's out," he wheezed. "On to it pretty quick, too. Heard we're goin' +to gallop Fo'-Pound and he's come to see what he can see."</p> + +<p>The man drew to one side to let the riders pass.</p> + +<p>It was Joses; and he had changed.</p> + +<p>There was less of the sow and more of the wolf about him than of old. +His shaggy whiskers were touched with gray, and there was something hard +and fierce about his face. The old inflamed and flabby look had been +hammered out of him in the hard school from which he had just emerged.</p> + +<p>He eyed the riders as they passed.</p> + +<p>Boy's grave eyes became graver and more self-contained. At once she was +alert and had locked all her doors. In that firm, courageous face of +hers there was no curiosity, no unkindness, and least of all no fear. +The young man glancing at her thought he had never seen such strength +manifest in any face; and it was not the strength that is based on +hardness, for she was paler than her wont.</p> + +<p>Then she spoke.</p> + +<p>Her voice, deep as a bell and very quiet, surprised him in the silence. +He had not expected it, and yet somehow it seemed to him beautifully +appropriate.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, Mr. Joses," said the voice, and that was all; but it +wrought a miracle.</p> + +<p>"Yes," growled the man in the wayside, "it wasn't you: it was Silver."</p> + +<p>The young man's face flashed white. He pulled up instantaneously.</p> + +<p>"What's that?" he said.</p> + +<p>Boy, riding on, called sharply over her shoulder:</p> + +<p>"Come on, Mr. Silver!"</p> + +<p>Reluctant as a dog to leave an enemy, the young man obeyed, and caught +up the other two.</p> + +<p>"Little bit o' bitter," muttered the old man. He jerked his thumb over +his shoulder. "I got him five year for himself," he went on querulously. +"And now he ain't satisfied. No pleasin' some folk."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII<br /> + +<span class="smcap">The Gallop</span></h4> + + +<p>On the Mare's Back a little group was awaiting the party.</p> + +<p>There was Monkey Brand, Albert, and a sheeted horse, patrolling lazily +up and down; while Billy Bluff lay on the ground hard by and gnawed his +paw.</p> + +<p>Ever since, years back, Joses had struck the paw with a stone Billy had +bestowed a quite unfair amount of attention on it, spending all his +spare time doctoring his favourite. There was nothing whatever the +matter with it, but if he continued his attentions long enough there +might be some day, and he would then be rewarded for his patient labours +by having a real injury to mend.</p> + +<p>It was somewhat misty up there on the hill, though clear above; the sea +was wrapt in a white blanket, and the Coastguard Station at the Gap was +invisible.</p> + +<p>A little remote from the others in body and spirit, Jerry, deep in +philosophic doubt, was walking Lollypop up and down—Lollypop, now a +sage and rather superior veteran of seven; while on a mound hard by was +Stanley on the pretty Make-Way-There.</p> + +<p>The course was two miles round, running along the top of the hill over +fences that looked stark and formidable in the gray.</p> + +<p>"Strip him," grunted Old Mat.</p> + +<p>Albert and Monkey Brand went swiftly to work.</p> + +<p>A great brown horse, gaunt and ugly as a mountain-goat, emerged. His +legs were like palings; his ears long and wide apart, and there was +something immensely masculine about him. He looked, with his great plain +head, the embodiment of Work and Character: a piece of old furniture +designed for use and not for ornament, massive, many-cornered, and +shining from centuries of work and wear.</p> + +<p>That lean head of his, hollow above the eyes, and with a pendent upper +lip, was so ugly as to be almost laughable; and his lazy and luminous +eye looked out on the world with a drolling, almost satirical, air, as +much as to say:</p> + +<p>"It's all a great bore, but it might well be worse."</p> + +<p>"A thundering great hoss," muttered Old Mat. "I don't know as ever I see +his equal for power. Cannibal stood as high, but he hadn't the girth on +him. And Cannibal was a man-eatin' mule, he was. Savage you soon as look +at you. I never went into his loose-box without a pitchfork. I seen him +pull his jockey off by the toe of his boot afore now. But him!—he's a +Christian. A child could go in to him and climb on to his back by way of +his hind-leg. Look at them 'ocks," he continued in the low, musing voice +of the mystic. "Lift you over a house. And a head on him like a +pippopotamus."</p> + +<p>Jim Silver's eyes followed the line of the horse's quarters.</p> + +<p>"He's come on a lot since Christmas," he remarked. "He's less ragged +than he was."</p> + +<p>"You could hang your hat on him yet, though," said the old man. "Walk +him round, Brand."</p> + +<p>The little jockey, now in the saddle, obeyed.</p> + +<p>Four-Pound-the-Second shook his head and, blowing his nose, strode +round with that wonderful swing from the hocks which made Mr. Haggard +once say that the horse walked like a Highland regiment marching to the +pipes.</p> + +<p>"He's on C springs," said Mat, watching critically. "See where he puts +his hind-feet—nigh a foot in front of the marks of his fore; and I +don't know as I knows a knowin'er hoss. Look at that head-piece. He's +all the while a-thinkin', that hoss is. That's the way he's bred. If +they're much with human beings they picks up our tricks, same as dogs. +He'd take to drink, he would, only he ain't got the cash."</p> + +<p>Boy had stripped off her long riding-coat and sat on the tall +Silvertail, a slight figure in breeches and boots, her white shirt +fluttering in the wind, her face calm and resolute.</p> + +<p>Mat kicked his pony forward.</p> + +<p>"Four-mile spin and let him spread himself," he grunted. "I want to see +him move to-day. And you, Jerry, ride that Lollypop out. He'll save +himself if you'll let him. First time round over fences, Boy. Then you +and Jerry'll pull out and Stanley'll pick up the running and take him +round again over the flat. Now!"</p> + +<p>Boy and Jerry set their horses going quietly. The girl's head was on her +shoulder, watching if the horse she was to pace was coming along.</p> + +<p>He was thinking about it. Monkey Brand, handling him with the wonderful +tact of a nurse with a delicate child, gathered the great horse quietly, +clicking at him. Four-Pound-the-Second broke into a reluctant canter. +Billy Bluff began to romp and bark.</p> + +<p>The young horse had found the excuse he sought, swung away from his +leader, and began to buck round in a circle, propping and plunging.</p> + +<p>"Put the dog on the lead, Albert," ordered the girl, trotting back.</p> + +<p>She and Jerry tried again, cantering past the rebel, calling and +coaxing.</p> + +<p>Four-Pound-the-Second went marching round in a circle, champing at his +bit, thrashing with his tail, and every now and then flinging a +make-believe buck, as much as to say:</p> + +<p>"I could throw you if I would, but I won't, because I like you too +much."</p> + +<p>Monkey Brand, wise and patient, humoured him.</p> + +<p>"Let him take his time," called Boy. "<i>Steady, lad, steady!</i>"</p> + +<p>Old Mat watched grimly.</p> + +<p>"I thought as much," he muttered. "He ain't 'alf a little rogue. 'Tain't +temper, eether. He's the temper of a h'angel and the constitootion of a +h'ox. It's that he just won't. For all the world like a great spoilt +boy. He's <i>mischeevous</i>. He wants to give trouble because that amooses +him. I've known him sulk in his gallop afore now because Billy Bluff +wasn't up here to watch him. Where it is to-day he wants <i>her</i> to ride +him. He don't care about nobody else when <i>she's</i> about."</p> + +<p>Boy had ridden back to the young horse.</p> + +<p>"Steady him," she said quietly. "Get up alongside him, Jerry. Now try +and get him off the mark with me. All together. Now!"</p> + +<p>The manoeuvre failed. Lollypop and Silvertail got well away, but the +young horse merely pawed the air.</p> + +<p>Monkey Brand's face was set.</p> + +<p>"Give me that whip, Albert," he said between his teeth.</p> + +<p>"No," said the girl. "That's no good."</p> + +<p>Old Mat held up his hand.</p> + +<p>"He ain't for it," he said masterfully. "Get off him, Brand."</p> + +<p>The little jockey glanced at his master, saw he meant business, and +slipped off the great horse, chagrin in every line of his face.</p> + +<p>Albert, unbidden, had already gathered the reins in his hand and was +preparing to mount.</p> + +<p>"No," said Boy authoritatively. "Albert, take Silvertail."</p> + +<p>She slipped off the tall old mare.</p> + +<p>Her father nodded approval.</p> + +<p>"She's right," he muttered. "Never do to try Albert when Brand has +failed."</p> + +<p>"Chuck me up, Brand," said the girl.</p> + +<p>The little jockey turned.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Miss."</p> + +<p>The girl had broken the blow for him, and he tossed her into the saddle +with a will.</p> + +<p>She sat up there on the great horse, ordering her reins with masterful +delicacy.</p> + +<p>Jim Silver's eyes dwelt tenderly upon her face. He longed to dismount +and kiss the girl's hand. But all he said in matter-of-fact voice was:</p> + +<p>"You've got a lot in front of you."</p> + +<p>"It's like a glacier," replied Boy.</p> + +<p>"She could slide on that shoulder," commented Old Mat. "Like Napoleon on +the Pyramids."</p> + +<p>The young horse began to sidle and plunge.</p> + +<p>"Right!" said Boy. "Stand clear!"</p> + +<p>The little jockey jumped aside, and mounted Silvertail.</p> + +<p>Four-Pound-the-Second gave a great bound. The girl rode him as a yacht +rides the sea, swinging easily to his motion, and talking to him the +while. He sprawled around with tiny bucks and little grunts of joy, +brimming over with energy.</p> + +<p>Then, as if by magic, he steadied down and began to walk round with that +tremendous swing of his, blowing his nose, and playing with his bit. +David had swept his hand across his harp and the dark spirit had been +charmed away.</p> + +<p>Old Mat nodded and said to himself: "Where it is, is there it is."</p> + +<p>Nobody else spoke.</p> + +<p>Boy, in her white shirt, her hair radiant against the dull heavens, +began to feel at her horse's mouth.</p> + +<p>Monkey Brand and Jerry watched her closely.</p> + +<p>"Keep walking in front of me," called the girl sharply. "And move with +me."</p> + +<p>Both obeyed, eyeing the girl over their shoulders, and slowly gathering +way.</p> + +<p>Then she spoke to her horse; and he stole away, easy and quiet as a +tide, Boy leaning forward, the two pacing horses, one on either side, +leading him by half a length.</p> + +<p>"Yes," commented Old Mat, as he slung his glasses round and adjusted +them. "You'd think a little child could ride him be the look of it."</p> + +<p>The three rose at the first fence all together, the white shirt +sandwiched between the dark jackets.</p> + +<p>Jim Silver felt a thrill at his heart. That thunder of hoofs moved him +to his deeps.</p> + +<p>"Gallops very wide behind," he remarked casually.</p> + +<p>"That's Berserk, that is," muttered the old man, adjusting his glasses. +"Chucks the mud about a treat, don't he?"</p> + +<p>Billy Bluff was straining on his lead, whimpering to be after his big +friend, while Albert leaned back against the wind, holding him.</p> + +<p>The horses had settled to their gallop, their steady, rhythmical stride +only varied as they rose at their fences, spread themselves, slid +earthward and went away again with a steady roar of hoofs.</p> + +<p>The three kept well together till they swung for home, then the white +shirt began to bob up against the sky a second before the dark bodies of +the other two showed.</p> + +<p>"Tailin' 'em off," muttered Old Mat. "Ain't 'alf tuckin' into it, +Four-Pound ain't."</p> + +<p>Then Lollypop began to lag, and Jerry's arm was going.</p> + +<p>"Stopped him dead," said Silver.</p> + +<p>"And he's a good little two-mile hoss, too," replied Old Mat.</p> + +<p>Another moment and the white shirt came over the last fence, the brown +horse soaring like some great eagle.</p> + +<p>Silvertail, clinging gamely to her leader, brushed through the fence and +pecked heavily on landing.</p> + +<p>Monkey punished her savagely.</p> + +<p>"Ain't in a very pretty temper, Monkey ain't," muttered Old Mat, as the +little jockey pulled aside and slipped off. "Now Make-Way-There'll take +it up."</p> + +<p>The brown horse came thundering by, steady and strong, his little jockey +collected as himself, lying out over her horse's neck.</p> + +<p>"The fences don't trouble her much," said Silver, his voice calm and +heart beating.</p> + +<p>"See, she's that strong," wheezed Old Mat confidentially. "You wouldn't +think it, but there's eight stun o' that gal good. It's her bone's so +big."</p> + +<p>The brown horse had swept past them, going wide of the fences for the +second time round.</p> + +<p>Make-Way-There, who had been dancing on his toes away on the left as he +waited for his cue, chimed in as Four-Pound-the-Second came up alongside +him.</p> + +<p>He settled down to his stride at once and took the lead.</p> + +<p>The brown horse, entirely undisturbed by this new rival, held on his +mighty way.</p> + +<p>The two horses swung round the curve, on the outside of the fences, +Four-Pound-the-Second on the inside berth and close to the quarters of +his leader.</p> + +<p>The horses dropped into a dip, but for some reason the echo of their +hoofs came reverberating back to the watchers in ever-growing roar. When +they emerged from the hollow and raced up the opposite slope they were +still together.</p> + +<p>Then they made for home.</p> + +<p>Old Mat had edged up alongside Silver.</p> + +<p>"When he lays down to it, belly all along the ground!" he whispered, in +the ecstasy of a connoisseur enjoying a masterpiece.</p> + +<p>"Whew!—can't he streak!" cried Albert.</p> + +<p>Then a silence fell upon the watchers like a cloud. Their hearts were +full, their spirits fluttering against the bars of their prison-house.</p> + +<p>The horses dropped into a dip again, and only the heads and shoulders of +the riders were seen surging forward, borne on the crest of a roaring +avalanche of sound.</p> + +<p>As they came up the last hill with shooting feet and knees that buffeted +the air, they were locked together, the little riders lying over the +necks of their horses and watching each other jealously.</p> + +<p>In the silence there was something terrifying about the tumult of those +swift, oncoming feet. The earth shook and trembled. Even Billy Bluff was +awed and quivering.</p> + +<p>Jim Silver never took his eyes off that little figure with the +fluttering white shirt riding the crest of the oncoming storm and +growing on him with such overwhelming speed. He dwelt with fascinated +eyes upon the give-and-take of her little hands, the set of her +shoulders, the swift turn of her head, as she watched the boy at her +side. His will was firm, his heart high. She seemed to him so fair, so +slight, and yet so consummately masterful, as to be something more than +flesh and blood.</p> + +<p>A rare voice penetrated to his ears through the tumult.</p> + +<p>"That's a little bit o' better."</p> + +<p>"Ain't it a cracker?"</p> + +<p>"Hold that dog!"</p> + +<p>As they came along the flat, the two horses seemed neck and neck.</p> + +<p>The dark lad was riding a finish in approved style. Then the girl +stirred with her hands, and the great brown forged ahead.</p> + +<p>As the horses came past the watchers, Make-Way-There tailed off +suddenly.</p> + +<p>Four-Pound-the-Second thundered by like a brown torrent, the stroke of +his hoofs making a mighty music.</p> + +<p>"Gallops like a railway train," said a voice at Silver's side.</p> + +<p>It was Joses.</p> + +<p>The young man, lifted above himself, did not resent the other's presence +at his side, did not wonder at it. Indeed, it seemed to him quite +natural. The wonder of Infinite Power made manifest in flesh rapt the +beholders out of themselves. They stood bare-headed in the presence of +the abiding miracle, made one by it.</p> + +<p>"Can she hold him?" thought Silver as the horse shot past them.</p> + +<p>And either he expressed his thoughts unconsciously in words, or as not +seldom happens in moments of excitement, Old Mat read his unuttered +thoughts.</p> + +<p>"She can hold him in a snaffle," he said. "She's the only one as can!"</p> + +<p>And in fact the young horse was coming back to his rider. She was +swinging to steady him. At the top of the rise she turned him, +dismounted, and loosed his girths. Then she led him down the slope back +to the group, an alert, fair figure, touched to glory by the gallop, the +great horse blowing uproariously at her side, tossing his head and +flinging the foam on to his chest and neck, looking like a huge, +drenched dog wet from the sea.</p> + +<p>"Pull at ye?" asked the old man.</p> + +<p>"He caught hold a bit as we came up the slope," answered Boy.</p> + +<p>Jim Silver had dismounted and laid a hand on the horse's shining neck.</p> + +<p>"Great," he said.</p> + +<p>The faint colour was in the girl's cheeks, and she was breathing deep as +she peeped up at him with happy eyes.</p> + +<p>"He's not clumsy for a big horse, is he?" she said. "Rug him up, Albert, +and lead him home. He's hit himself, I see—that off-fore fetlock. +Better put a boracic bandage on when you get him in."</p> + +<p>She put on her long coat and mounted Silvertail.</p> + +<p>"Yes, don't stand about," said her father; "or you'll have Mar on to +me."</p> + +<p>The three moved off the hill.</p> + +<p>Stanley had already gone on with Make-Way-There, and Albert followed +with the young horse still snorting and blowing.</p> + +<p>Billy Bluff patrolled between his mistress and his friend, doing his +best to keep the two parties together.</p> + +<p>Monkey Brand was left alone.</p> + +<p>"Took it 'ard!" muttered Old Mat, jerking his head.</p> + +<p>"He'll be all right," said Boy, glancing back. "Give him time to get his +second wind."</p> + +<p>The little jockey went back to pick up a plate Make-Way-There had +dropped.</p> + +<p>Joses strolled up to him with portentous brow.</p> + +<p>"Turned you down!" he said. "You're not horseman enough for them, it +seems."</p> + +<p>The little man gathered himself. He was very grim, curling his lips +inward and whistling between his teeth as though to relieve inward +pressure.</p> + +<p>"How long have you ridden for 'em?" asked the fat man.</p> + +<p>"Twenty-five year," the other answered, with the quiet of one labouring +under a great emotion.</p> + +<p>The other rumbled out his ironical laughter.</p> + +<p>"And now they chuck you," he said. "Too old at forty. What?"</p> + +<p>The little man spat on the ground.</p> + +<p>"Blast 'em," he said. "Blast you. Blast the lot. It's a bloody world."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV<br /> + +<span class="smcap">The Lovers' Quarrel</span></h4> + + +<p>Boy did not appear at dinner.</p> + +<p>The midday meal, especially on Sunday, she generally skipped.</p> + +<p>Old Mat, Ma, and Silver lunched together and in silence.</p> + +<p>The old trainer was absorbed in himself, and there was no question that +he found himself exceedingly good company. His face became pink and his +eye wet with the excellence of the joke he was brewing in his deeps. He +slobbered over his food and spilt it. Mrs. Woodburn watched him with +amused sympathy.</p> + +<p>"You've been up to something you shouldn't, dad," she said. "I know +you."</p> + +<p>He held up a shaking hand in protest.</p> + +<p>"Now don't you, Mar!" he said. "I been to church—that's all I done. Mr. +Haggard preach a booriffle sermon on the 'Oly Innocents. 'There's some +is saints,' he says, and he looks full glare at me; 'and there's some as +isn't.' And he looks at his missus. 'There's some as is where they ought +to be Sundays,' and he looks full glare at me. 'And there's some as +isn't.' And he stares at the empty seat aside o' me. Yes, my dear, +you'll cop it on the crumpet to-morrow when he comes to see you, and +you'll deserve it, too."</p> + +<p>After lunch, as the old man left the room, he beckoned mysteriously to +Silver, and toddled away down the passage with hunched shoulders to his +sanctum.</p> + +<p>The young man followed him with amused eyes. He knew very well what was +coming.</p> + +<p>Once inside his office, Mat closed the door in his most secretive way.</p> + +<p>"Only one thing for it," he whispered hoarsely. "The gal must ride."</p> + +<p>Silver stared out of the window.</p> + +<p>"But will she?"</p> + +<p>The old man messed with his papers.</p> + +<p>"She mayn't for me," he mumbled. "She might for someone—to help him out +of a hole. I'll try her anyway. If she will I'll put a thousand on +myself."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>An hour later Silver was smoking a cigarette in the darkness of the +wainscoted dining room, when the door burst open.</p> + +<p>Boy came in upon him swift and radiant. She was in her blue skirt and +blouse again, and her hair was like a halo against the dark wainscoting. +The glory of the gallop was still upon her.</p> + +<p>He rose to her, challenged and challenging.</p> + +<p>She crossed the room to him, and stood with her hand on the mantelpiece. +She did not laugh, she did not even smile, but there was in her the deep +and quiet ecstasy that causes the thorn to blossom in beauty after a +winter of reserve. It seemed to him that she was swaying as a rose sways +in a gale, yet anchored always to the earth in perfect self-possession.</p> + +<p>As always, she came straight to the point.</p> + +<p>"Do you want me to ride him in the National?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I don't mind," he answered nonchalantly.</p> + +<p>"Have you backed him?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet."</p> + +<p>"Are you going to?"</p> + +<p>"I might—if I can get a hundred thousand to a thousand about him."</p> + +<p>Her gray eyes searched him. Not a corner of him but her questioning +spirit ransacked it.</p> + +<p>"How much money have you got left?"</p> + +<p>"When all's squared? a few thousand, I believe."</p> + +<p>She looked into the fire, one little foot poised on the fender. He was +provoking her. She felt it.</p> + +<p>"I could just about win on him," she said. "I think."</p> + +<p>"I'm not so sure," he answered.</p> + +<p>She became defiant in a flash.</p> + +<p>"One thing," she said, "I'm sure nobody else could."</p> + +<p>He followed up his advantage deliberately.</p> + +<p>"I'm not so sure," he said.</p> + +<p>Her eyes sparkled frostily.</p> + +<p>She understood.</p> + +<p>He was furious because her father had spoken to her; resentful that in +her hands should be the winning for him of a potential fortune.</p> + +<p>She would show him.</p> + +<p>"I might think of riding him perhaps," she said slowly, "on one +condition."</p> + +<p>"What's that?"</p> + +<p>"That you don't bet on him."</p> + +<p>He rolled off into deep, ironical laughter.</p> + +<p>"Done with you!" he cried, holding out his hand.</p> + +<p>She brushed it aside.</p> + +<p>"What I said was that I <i>might think</i> of it," she said, and made for the +door.</p> + +<p>He did not pursue.</p> + +<p>"Oh, do!" he cried lazily. "Do!"</p> + +<p>"I shall see," she answered. "I might and I might not. Probably the +latter."</p> + +<p>She went out with firm lips.</p> + +<p>"I see what it is!" he cried after her, still ironical.</p> + +<p>She turned about.</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"You're afraid of Aintree."</p> + +<p>The girl, who in many matters was still a child, flared at once.</p> + +<p>"Afraid of Aintree!" she cried. "I'll show you whether I'm afraid of +Aintree or not!"</p> + +<p>She marched down the passage, pursued by his mocking laughter, and went +out into the yard with nodding head and flashing eyes.</p> + +<p>Then she walked to the gate and looked across the Paddock Close.</p> + +<p>Mr. Haggard was walking slowly up toward the church to take the +children's service. On the public path by the stile were two figures +engaged in conversation. She recognized them at once. They were Joses +and Monkey Brand.</p> + +<p>Thoughtfully she crossed into the stable.</p> + +<p>It was Sunday afternoon, and there was nobody about but Maudie, who +departed coldly on the entrance of the girl, suspecting trouble. +Maudie's suspicions were but too well-founded.</p> + +<p>The girl went straight to Four-Pound-the-Second's loose-box and opened +it. The Monster-without-Manners emerged and greeted his mistress with +yawns. The brown horse with the tan muzzle shifted slowly toward her. +She ran her eye over him, adjusted a bandage, and went out into the +yard.</p> + +<p>Billy accompanied her, for he always passed his Sunday afternoons with +his mistress.</p> + +<p>As she left the stable Monkey Brand was entering the yard.</p> + +<p>"What was Joses saying, Brand?" she asked sharply.</p> + +<p>The little man did not seem to see or hear her. But as he passed her, +she thought he dropped an eyelid. Then he limped swiftly on into the +saddle-room.</p> + +<p>Boy, balancing on the ladder, looked after him.</p> + +<p>Then she went up into the loft, Billy Bluff at her heels trying with +whimpers to thrust by that he might hold communion with fair Maudie on +the top rung.</p> + +<p>Maudie watched the approaching feet with sullen and apathetic disdain. +When they were almost on her she rose suddenly. The languid lady with +the manners of a West-End drawing-room became the screaming fish-wife of +Wapping. She humped, swore, and scampered away to the loft, there to +establish herself upon a cross-beam, where she was proof against +assault.</p> + +<p>Boy crossed the loft, entered her room, and closed the door.</p> + +<p>She glanced out of the window.</p> + +<p>Joses was crossing the Paddock Close toward the cottage where he lodged.</p> + +<p>She watched him closely.</p> + +<p>He was going to try it on. She was sure of it.</p> + +<p>Then she would try it on him; and she would show no mercy.</p> + +<p>She looked at herself in the glass, and smiled at what she saw.</p> + +<p>Mr. Silver's affront still clouded her face, and the thought of Joses +struck from the cloud a flash of lightning.</p> + +<p>Suddenly an idea came to her. Her eyes sparkled, and she laughed +merrily.</p> + +<p>She let down her hair.</p> + +<p>It was short, fine, and thick; massy, Mr. Haggard called it. Then she +took a pair of scissors and began to snip. Flakes of gold fell on the +floor and strewed her feet. She stood as on a threshing-floor.</p> + +<p>As she worked, the boards of the loft sounded to the tramp of a heavy +visitor.</p> + +<p>Somebody knocked at the door. There came to the girl's eyes a look of +amused defiance.</p> + +<p>"Come in," she said, turning.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Woodburn stood in the door, grieved and grim. She saw her +daughter's face framed in thickets of gold, and the splendid ruin on the +floor.</p> + +<p>Boy crossed to her mother and closed the door quietly behind her. Then +she led her mother to the bed, and sat down beside her.</p> + +<p>The old lady was breathing deeply, and not from the effort of the climb.</p> + +<p>The daughter's eyes, full of a tender curiosity, teasing and yet +compassionate, searched her mother's face, in which there was no +laughter.</p> + +<p>"Are you going to, Boy?" asked the old lady.</p> + +<p>"D'you want me not?"</p> + +<p>The mother nodded.</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Woodburn sighed.</p> + +<p>"I'd rather not," she said.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" persisted Boy.</p> + +<p>"It's against the rules."</p> + +<p>"Is that all?" with scorn.</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Then why not?"</p> + +<p>"It's dangerous."</p> + +<p>"Dangerous!" flashed the girl. "So you think I'm a coward, too!"</p> + +<p>"I don't, I don't," pleaded the other. "But I don't want you to."</p> + +<p>Boy put her hand on the old lady's knee.</p> + +<p>Her mother and Mr. Haggard were the only two human beings to whom she +ever demonstrated affection.</p> + +<p>"Will you promise me?" said the mother.</p> + +<p>"No," answered Boy.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Woodburn tried to rise, but the girl held her down.</p> + +<p>"Sit down, mother, please. You never come and see me up here."</p> + +<p>Her eyes devoured her mother's face hungrily and with unlaughing eyes.</p> + +<p>"Kiss me, mother," she ordered.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Woodburn refrained.</p> + +<p>"Kiss me, mother," sternly.</p> + +<p>The mother obeyed.</p> + +<p>"Shall you?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I shan't say," replied Boy.</p> + +<p>She rose and went to the window.</p> + +<p>Outside under the wood Mr. Silver, pipe in mouth, was sauntering round +Ragamuffin's grave.</p> + +<p>"He said I was afraid!" she muttered.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>When her mother left the room, the girl went to the window.</p> + +<p>The gallop had kindled in her for the moment the flame of her old +ambition; but the desire had died down swiftly as it had risen.</p> + +<p>Boy knew now that she no longer really wanted to ride the Grand National +Winner. She wanted something else—fiercely.</p> + +<p>Cautiously she peeped out of the window.</p> + +<p>Mr. Silver, in that old green golf-jacket of his, that clung so finely +to his clean shoulders, was prowling along the edge of the wood close to +Ragamuffin's grave, peeping for early nests.</p> + +<p>The girl remembered that it was St. Valentine's—the day birds mate.</p> + +<p>She turned away.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="BOOK_V" id="BOOK_V"></a>BOOK V<br /> + + +MONKEY BRAND</h4> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV" id="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV<br /> + +<span class="smcap">The Dancer's Son</span></h4> + + +<p>Sebastian Bach Joses was the son of an artist of Portuguese extraction. +The artist was a waster and a wanderer. In his youth he mated with a +Marseillaise dancing-girl who had posed as his model. Joses had been the +result. The father shortly deserted the mother, who took to the +music-hall stage.</p> + +<p>After a brief and somewhat lurid career on the halls in London and +elsewhere she died.</p> + +<p>The lad had as little chance as a human being can have. As a boy, with +the red-gold mass of hair he inherited from his mother, and a certain +farouche air, he had been attractive, especially to women. Clever, +alert, and sensitive, brought up in a Bohemian set, without money, or +morals, or the steadying factor of position, he had early acquired all +the tricks of the artist, the parasite, and the adventurer. He could +play the guitar quite prettily, could sing a song, dabbled with pen and +brush, and talked with considerable facility of poetry and art.</p> + +<p>An old-time admirer of his mother's, on whom that lady when dying had +fathered the boy, paid for the lad's keep as a child. Later, attracted +by the boy's beauty, and secretly proud of his putative share in it, he +had sent him to a college in a south coast watering place and afterward +to Oxford.</p> + +<p>There Joses had swiftly worked his way into a vicious set of stupid rich +men, morally his equals, intellectually his inferiors, but socially and +economically vastly his superiors. They were all lads from public +schools who desired above all to be thought men of the world. Joses, on +the other hand, was a man of the world who desired above all else to be +taken for a public-school man.</p> + +<p>Each of the two parties to the unwritten contract got what was desired +from the other. Joses had knocked about the Continent; he knew the +Quartier Latin, Berlin night-life, and the darker haunts of Naples. His +rich allies kept horses, hunted, and raced. They learned a good deal +that Joses was ready to impart; and on his side he acquired from them +some knowledge of the racing world and an entrée into it. His manners +were good—rather too good; and the touch of the artist and the exotic +appealed to the coarse and simple minds of his companions. He wore +longish hair, softish collars, cultivated eccentricities and a slightly +foreign accent; all of which things the <i>jeunesse dorée</i> tolerated with +a touch of patronage. And Joses was quite content to be patronized so +long as his patrons would pay.</p> + +<p>After two years at Oxford his putative father died. Joses went down +perforce, leaving behind him many debts, a girl behind a bar who was +fond of him, and a reputation as a brilliant rogue who might some day +prove the poet of the sport of kings.</p> + +<p>Equipped with the knowledge acquired at the ancient University, he went +to London and there earned his living as a sporting journalist, +attending race-meetings, adding to his income by betting, and performing +certain unlovely services for the more vicious of his Oxford friends.</p> + +<p>Handicapped in many ways, he had at least this advantage over the bulk +of his brother-men: that he was not hampered by scruples, principles, +or tradition.</p> + +<p>At thirty his beauty was already on the wane. He was faded, fat, and +tarnished; and already he was visibly going to pieces.</p> + +<p>The end, which had been preparing in the deeps for years, came suddenly.</p> + +<p>The story was an old one: that of one woman and two men. The three had +driven back from Ascot in a hansom together. There was supper, drink, +and trouble at the lady's flat. The other man got a knife in him, and +Joses got five years.</p> + +<p>When he came out, he resumed his old haunts and earned a precarious +living by watching. He was almost the only watcher who could write, and +his eye for a horse's form was phenomenally good. It was in those days +that he came into touch with his future employers.</p> + +<p>With an acute sense for those who could serve them, the Three J's +realised at once that this man was on a different level to that of other +watchers. They financed him liberally, advanced him money, and held a +cheque to which in a moment of aberration Joses had signed Ikey +Aaronsohnn's name. And he in his turn served them well if not +faithfully.</p> + +<p>When Chukkers rode the famous International that established him once +and for all in a class by himself among cross-country riders, snatching +an astounding victory on Hooka-burra from Lady Golightly, his win and +the way he rode his race was largely due to Joses's report on the +favourite's staying power.</p> + +<p>"She'll gallop three and three-quarter miles at top speed," he had said, +"and then bust like a bladder. Bustle her all the way, and yours'll beat +her from the last fence."</p> + +<p>When Joses was put away for incendiarism, the Three J's missed him far +more than they would have cared to admit. They had two bad seasons in +succession, and a worse followed. At the end of the third Chukkers, for +the first time for seven years, no longer headed the list of winning +jockeys.</p> + +<p>Then Ikey carried off his jockey to the States to break his luck.</p> + +<p>It was on this visit, at some old-fashioned meeting in the Southern +States, so the story went, Chukkers discovered the mare from Blue +Mounds. All the world knows to-day how she re-established her jockey's +fame and made her own.</p> + +<p>When, after an unforgettable season in Australia, he returned to England +with the American mare, the pair had never been beaten. And in the Old +Country they repeated the performance of Australia. Together they won +the Sefton, the International, and last of all the National. And though +Chukkers had been disqualified in the last race, his fame and hers had +reached a pinnacle untouched by any horse or man in modern racing +history.</p> + +<p>The star-spangled jacket led the world.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>When Joses came out of prison he journeyed down at once to Dewhurst.</p> + +<p>Jaggers and Chukkers met him.</p> + +<p>It did not take the tout long to get a hang of the situation.</p> + +<p>The National was coming on in a few weeks. The mare had to win at all +costs.</p> + +<p>Since her victory and defeat at Aintree in the previous March she had +never run but once in public, and that time had scattered her field.</p> + +<p>Jaggers had been laying her up in lavender all the winter for the great +race, and she was now at the top of her form.</p> + +<p>They took Joses round to her loose-box.</p> + +<p>Just back from work she was stripped and sweating, swishing her tail, +savaging her manger with arched neck, tramping to and fro on swift, +uneasy feet as her lad laboured at her.</p> + +<p>So perfectly compact was she that the tout heard with surprise that she +stood little short of sixteen hands. The length of her rein compensated +for the shortness of her back, and her hocks and hind-quarters were +those of a panther, lengthy and well let-down.</p> + +<p>The fat man ran his eye over her fair proportions.</p> + +<p>"She's beautiful," he mused.</p> + +<p>Indeed, the excellence of her form spoke to the heart of the poet in +him. He dwelt almost lovingly upon that astonishing fore-hand and the +mouse-head with the wild eye that revealed the spirit burning within. As +her lad withdrew from her a moment, she gave that familiar toss of the +muzzle familiar to thousands, which made a poet say that she was +fretting always to transcend the restraint of the flesh.</p> + +<p>"If she's as good as she looks," said Joses, "she's good enough."</p> + +<p>"She's better," said the jockey with the high cheek-bones. He passed his +hand along the mare's rein. It was said that Chukkers had never cared +for a horse in his life, and it was certain that many horses had hated +Chukkers. But it was common knowledge that he was fonder of the mare +than he had ever been of any living creature.</p> + +<p>"She's got nothing up against her as I know of," said Jaggers in his +austere way. "There's Moonlighter, the Irishman, of course."</p> + +<p>"He can't stay," said Chukkers briefly.</p> + +<p>"And Gee-Woa-There, the Doncaster horse."</p> + +<p>"He can't gallop."</p> + +<p>"And Kingfisher, the West country crack."</p> + +<p>"He beats himself jumpin'."</p> + +<p>"And that's about the lot—only the Putnam horse," continued the +trainer. "They think I know nothing about him. I know some, and I want +to know more."</p> + +<p>"I'll settle that," said Joses.</p> + +<p>The jockey was pulling the mare's ears thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"You'd like to take a little bit of Putnam's, I daresay?" he said.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't mind if I did," replied the tout.</p> + +<p>"It was them done you down at the trial," continued the jockey. "Old Mat +and his Monkey and Silver Mug. The old gang."</p> + +<p>"Regular conspiracy," said Jaggers censoriously. "Ought to be ashamed of +themselves. Doin' down a pore man like that."</p> + +<p>The three moved out into the yard.</p> + +<p>A little later trainer and jockey stood in the gate of the yard and +watched Joses shuffle away across the Downs.</p> + +<p>"He's all right," said Chukkers, sucking the ivory charm he always +carried. "Ain't 'alf bitter."</p> + +<p>"Changed," smirked Jaggers, "and for the better. They've done 'emselves +no good, Putnam's haven't, this journey."</p> + +<p>Joses established his headquarters as of old at Cuckmere, and he made no +secret of his presence. Nor would it have been of much avail had he +attempted concealment. For the Saturday before the trial gallop had +brought Mat Woodburn a letter from Miller, the station-clerk at +Arunvale, which was the station for Dewhurst.</p> + +<p>The station-clerk had a feud of many years' standing with Jaggers, and +had moreover substantial reasons of his own for not wishing Mocassin to +win at Aintree. Along the line of the South Downs to be against Dewhurst +was to be in with Putnam's, and the telegraph line between Arunvale and +Cuckmere could tell many interesting secrets of the relations between +Mat Woodburn and the station-clerk.</p> + +<p>The letter in question informed Old Mat that Joses had come straight +from Portland to Dewhurst; that Chukkers had come down from London by +the eleven-twenty-seven; that Ikey had been expected but had not turned +up, and that the six-forty-two had taken Joses on to Cuckmere.</p> + +<p>After the trial gallop, and the meeting with the fat man on the hill, +Old Mat showed the letter to Silver.</p> + +<p>"He'll want watching, Mr. Joses will," he said.</p> + +<p>"He didn't look very pretty, did he?" said the young man.</p> + +<p>"Yes," mused the old man. "A little job o' work for Monkey, that'll be. +He don't like Chukkers, Monkey don't." He pursed his lips and lifting an +eye-lid looked at the other from beneath it. His blue eye was dreamy, +dewy, and twinkling remotely through a mist. "Rogues and rasqueals, Mr. +Silver!" he said. "Whatebber should we do without um?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI<br /> + +<span class="smcap">Monkey Sulks</span></h4> + + +<p>On the Sunday after the trial on the Mare's Back Jerry went solemnly +round the assembled lads before Bible Class, his hat in his hand and in +the hat a couple of coppers.</p> + +<p>"What for?" asked Alf, the cherub.</p> + +<p>The lads were used to what they called "levies" in the stable—sometimes +for a new football or something for the club, sometimes for a pal who +was in a hole.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Silver," answered Jerry. "He's done us proud while he could. Now +it's our turn to do a bit for him."</p> + +<p>"Is it as bad as all that?" asked Alf, wide-eyed.</p> + +<p>"It's worse," said Jerry, with dramatic restraint.</p> + +<p>The cherub peeped into the hat, fingering a tanner.</p> + +<p>He was genuinely concerned for Mr. Silver.</p> + +<p>"If I put in a tanner, how'll I know Mr. Silver'll get it?" he asked +ingenuously.</p> + +<p>Stanley jeered, and Jerry shot his chin forward.</p> + +<p>"Say, young Alf," he said. "Am I a genelman?—or ain't I?"</p> + +<p>"That ain't 'ardly for me to say, Jerry," answered the cherub with +delicate tact.</p> + +<p>Then there might have been trouble but for the interference of the +lordly Albert.</p> + +<p>"Don't you let him pinch nothin' off o' you, Alf," he said. "Mr. +Silver's all right."</p> + +<p>"What ye mean?" asked the indignant Jerry. "Ain't he broke then?"</p> + +<p>"He'll be a rich man again by then I done with him," answered Albert +loftily. "That's what I mean."</p> + +<p>"When will you be done with him then?" jeered Jerry.</p> + +<p>"After the National," answered Albert. "Yes, my boy, you'll get your +'alf-dollar at Christmas same as usual—if so be you deserves it."</p> + +<p>Jerry sneered.</p> + +<p>"Albert thinks <i>he's</i> goin' to get the ride," he cried. +"Likely!—G-r-r-r!"</p> + +<p>Albert was unmoved as a mountain and as coldly majestic.</p> + +<p>"I don't think. I knows," he said, folding his arms.</p> + +<p>"What do you know then?"</p> + +<p>"I knows what I knows," answered Albert, in true sacerdotal style. "And +I knows more'n them as don't know nothin'."</p> + +<p>Albert did really know something, but he did not know more than anybody +else. In those days, indeed, two facts were common property at Putnam's. +Everybody knew them, and everybody liked to believe that nobody else +did. The two facts were that Albert was going to ride Four-Pound-the-Second +at Aintree, and that Mr. Silver stood to get his money back upon the race. +There was a third fact, too, that everybody knew. It was different from the +other two in that not even Albert pretended that he alone was aware of it. +The third fact was that Monkey Brand was sulking.</p> + +<p>The lads knew it, the horses knew it, Billy Bluff knew it; Maudie, who +looked on Monkey as her one true friend in the world, knew it; even the +fan-tails in the yard had reason to suspect it.</p> + +<p>Jim Silver, who had a genuine regard for the little man, and was most +reluctant to think evil of him or anyone, was aware of it, and unhappy +accordingly.</p> + +<p>The only two who seemed not to know what was obvious to all the rest of +the world were, of course, the two most concerned—Old Mat and his +daughter.</p> + +<p>They were blind—deliberately so, Silver sometimes thought.</p> + +<p>The young man became at length so disturbed that he ventured to suggest +to the trainer that all was not well.</p> + +<p>The old man listened, his head a-cock, and his blue eyes sheathed.</p> + +<p>"I dessay," was all he said. "Men is men accordin' to my experience of +'em." He added: "And monkies monkies. Same as the Psalmist said in his +knowin' little way."</p> + +<p>Beaten back here, the young man, dogged as always, approached Boy in the +matter.</p> + +<p>He was countered with an ice-cold monosyllable.</p> + +<p>"Indeed," was all she said.</p> + +<p>The young man persisted in spite of his stutter.</p> + +<p>She flashed round on him.</p> + +<p>"So you think Monkey's selling us?" she said.</p> + +<p>Jim Silver looked sheepish and sullen.</p> + +<p>But whether the girl's attitude was due to the fact that he was still in +disgrace or to her resentment that he should be telling tales, he did +not know.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The young man's affairs in London were almost wound up, and he was +making his home at Putnam's.</p> + +<p>About the place, early and late, he became aware that Joses was +haunting the barns and out-houses. More than once in the lengthening +days he saw the fat man vanishing round a corner in the dusk.</p> + +<p>Taking the bull by the horns, he spoke to Monkey Brand about it.</p> + +<p>"Why not turn Billy Bluff loose after dark?" he suggested.</p> + +<p>Monkey was stubborn.</p> + +<p>"Can't be done, sir."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Can't leave Four-Pound's box, sir," the jockey answered, turning in his +lips. "Else the 'orse frets himself into a sweat."</p> + +<p>Silver was dissatisfied. He was still more so when two days later after +dark he came on two men in close communion in the lane at the back of +the Lads' Barn.</p> + +<p>They were standing in the shadow of the Barn out of the moon. But that +his senses were alert, and his suspicions roused, he would not have +detected them, for they hushed into sudden silence as he passed.</p> + +<p>He flashed an electric torch on to them.</p> + +<p>The two were Joses and Monkey Brand.</p> + +<p>He was not surprised, nor, it seemed, were they.</p> + +<p>Monkey Brand touched his hat.</p> + +<p>"Good-night, sir," he said cordially.</p> + +<p>"Good-night," said Silver coldly. "Good-night, Mr. Joses!"</p> + +<p>The tout rumbled ironically.</p> + +<p>Silver passed on into the yard, and the two were left together in the +dark.</p> + +<p>"On the bubble," said Joses.</p> + +<p>"I don't wonder, eether," answered Monkey. "Four-Pound's got to win it +for him."</p> + +<p>"Hundred thousand, isn't it?" said the fat man.</p> + +<p>"That is it," said Monkey. "Guv'nor won't part for less."</p> + +<p>"What's that?" asked Joses, stupefied.</p> + +<p>"Silver!" answered Monkey. "He's got to put a hundred thousand down, or +he don't get her. Old man's no mug."</p> + +<p>"Don't get who?" asked the other.</p> + +<p>"Minie," shortly.</p> + +<p>The fat man absorbed the news.</p> + +<p>"Hundred thousand down," continued Monkey. "That's the contrak—writ out +in red ink on parchment. It's a fortune."</p> + +<p>Joses was recovering himself.</p> + +<p>"It's nothing to what the mare'll carry all said," he mused. "American's +bankin' on her to the last dollar, let alone the Three J's.... There's +more in it than money, too. There's pride and sentiment, the old +animosities." He added after a pause—"Half a million's a lot of money +though. There'll be pickings, too—for those that deserve them."</p> + +<p>Monkey moved restlessly.</p> + +<p>"I daresay," he said irritably. "Not as it matters to me. Not as nothin' +matters to me now. Work you to the bone while you can work, and scrap +you when they've wore you out. It's a bloody world, as I've said afore."</p> + +<p>"Come!" cried the fat man. "The game's not up. There's more masters than +one in the world!"</p> + +<p>The little man was not to be consoled.</p> + +<p>"See where it is, Mr. Joses: I'm too old to start afresh."</p> + +<p>"Have they sacked you then?"</p> + +<p>The other shook his head.</p> + +<p>"They'll keep me on till after the National. He's not everybody's +'orse, Four-Pound ain't. If they was to make a change now, he might go +back on himself."</p> + +<p>The tout's breathing came a little quicker in the darkness.</p> + +<p>"D'you see to him?"</p> + +<p>"Me and Albert."</p> + +<p>"Is Albert goin' to ride him?"</p> + +<p>"Don't you believe it?" mocked the little jockey.</p> + +<p>The tout drew closer.</p> + +<p>"Who is, then?"</p> + +<p>Monkey ducked his head and patted the back of it.</p> + +<p>"Never!" cried Joses.</p> + +<p>The other raised a deprecatory hand and turned away.</p> + +<p>"You know best, o' course, Mr. Joses," he said. "You've the run o' +Putnam's same as me. And you're an eddicated man from Oxford College, +where they knows all there is to know."</p> + +<p>He was limping away.</p> + +<p>Joses hung on his heels.</p> + +<p>"Steady on, old sport," he said. "D'you mean that?"</p> + +<p>Monkey swung about.</p> + +<p>"See here, Mr. Joses," he whispered. "When a gal's out to win a man +she'll do <i>funny</i> things."</p> + +<p>The fat man breathed heavily.</p> + +<p>Then he began to laugh.</p> + +<p>"And it's win the National or lose the man!" he said. "Quite a +romance!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVII<br /> + +<span class="smcap">The Early Bird</span></h4> + + +<p>Next Sunday found Joses among the earliest and most attentive of the +worshippers at church.</p> + +<p>Boy Woodburn entered later, walked slowly up the aisle, and took her +place in the front pew. As she bowed her head in her hands, the fat man, +watching with all his eyes, learned what he had come to learn.</p> + +<p>After service he waited outside.</p> + +<p>As he stood among the tomb-stones, the girl passed, not seeing him.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, Miss Woodburn," he said ironically.</p> + +<p>She looked up suddenly, resentfully.</p> + +<p>His presence there clearly surprised and even startled the girl.</p> + +<p>She passed on without a word and with the faintest nod of +acknowledgment.</p> + +<p>The fat man, with a chuckle, thought he could diagnose the cause of her +annoyance.</p> + +<p>Next morning he met Boy in the village.</p> + +<p>She was wearing a close-fitting woollen cap, that covered her hair, and +the collar of her coat was turned up.</p> + +<p>The collar of the girl's coat was always turned up now, he remarked +sardonically, though the sun was gaining daily in power and the wind +losing its nip.</p> + +<p>She sauntered past him, and seemed even ready for a chat.</p> + +<p>Never slow to seize a chance, the fat man closed with her at once.</p> + +<p>"How goes it, Miss Woodburn?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Very well, thank you."</p> + +<p>"So you're going to win the National?"</p> + +<p>"Are we?"</p> + +<p>"He's good enough, isn't he?"</p> + +<p>The girl shrugged her shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Who's going to ride him?"</p> + +<p>"Albert, I suppose," replied the girl casually. "There's nobody else."</p> + +<p>"Not Monkey Brand?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Too old," she said.</p> + +<p>"Will he gallop for Albert?" asked the other.</p> + +<p>"Depends on his mood," replied the girl.</p> + +<p>The fat man laughed.</p> + +<p>"There's only one person he will gallop for—certain," he said.</p> + +<p>Boy looked away.</p> + +<p>"Who's that?" nonchalantly.</p> + +<p>Joses bowed and smirked and became very gallant.</p> + +<p>Flattery never moved the girl to anything but resentment.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," she said.</p> + +<p>"Pity you can't," pursued the other.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said. "I should have liked the ride."</p> + +<p>His roaming eye settled on her.</p> + +<p>"You'd have won, too," he said with assurance.</p> + +<p>"Think so?"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure so," he answered. "You've only One against you."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," she admitted. "But the One's a caution."</p> + +<p>"A good big un'll always beat a good little un," said the fat man.</p> + +<p>"Besides, he's a baby," replied the girl. "Chances his fences too much."</p> + +<p>"Sprawls a bit," admitted the other. "But he jumps so big it doesn't +make much odds. And he gets away like a deer."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Joses was now very much alert; and he had to be. For, as he reported to +Jaggers, Putnam's gave away as little as a dead man in the dark.</p> + +<p>One thing, however, became clear as the time slipped away and the +National drew ever nearer: that to the girl had been entrusted the +winding up of the young horse, and Albert was her henchman in the +matter.</p> + +<p>Monkey was the fat man's informant on the point. Joses would never have +believed the little jockey for a moment, but that his own eyes daily +confirmed the report.</p> + +<p>The window of his room looked out over the Paddock Close, and every +morning, before the world was astir, while the dew was still heavy on +the grass, the earth reeking, and the mists thick in the coombes, the +great sheeted horse, who marched like a Highland regiment and looked +like a mountain ram, was to be seen swinging up the hill on to the +Downs.</p> + +<p>There were two little figures always with him: one riding, one trotting +at his side. Seen across the Close at that hour in the morning, there +was no distinguishing between the two. Both were slight, bare-headed, +fair; and both were dressed much alike. So much might be seen, and +little more at that distance.</p> + +<p>One morning, therefore, found Joses established on the hill before the +horse and his two attendants had arrived.</p> + +<p>He had no desire to be seen.</p> + +<p>He squirmed his way with many pants through the gorse to the edge of the +gallop, adjusted his glasses, and watched the little group of three +ascend the brow half a mile away.</p> + +<p>One of the two attendant sprites slung the other up on to the back of +the phantom horse tossing against the sky.</p> + +<p>Then without a thought of fuss the phantom settled to his stride and +came down the slope, butting the mists away from his giant chest, the +rhythmical beat of his hoofs rising to a terrifying roar as he gathered +way.</p> + +<p>Joses dropped on to his hands and huddled against the soaking ground as +the pair came thundering by. He need not have feared detection: the +rider's head was low over the horse's neck, the rider's face averted. +All he saw was the back of a fair head, close-cropped.</p> + +<p>Kneeling up, he turned his glasses once again on the little figure +waiting now alone upon the brow.</p> + +<p>As he stared, he heard the quiet footfall of a horse climbing the hill +behind him.</p> + +<p>He dropped his glasses and looked round.</p> + +<p>Silver on Heart of Oak had come to a halt close by and was looking at +him.</p> + +<p>"Early bird," said the young man. "Looking for worms, I suppose."</p> + +<p>Joses grinned as he closed his glasses, and rising to his feet brushed +his sopping knees.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said. "And finding 'em."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII<br /> + +<span class="smcap">Ikey's Own</span></h4> + + +<p>Maudie was not the only one who had cause to complain that life at +Putnam's was changed now greatly for the worse.</p> + +<p>It all centred round that great, calm, munching creature in the +loose-box, with the big blue dog curled underneath the manger.</p> + +<p>Monkey Brand was moody; Old Mat irritable; his daughter curt; Silver +puzzled, and Mrs. Woodburn perturbed.</p> + +<p>For once in her life that habitually tranquil lady was restless, and +betrayed her trouble.</p> + +<p>The young man marked it and was genuinely sorry for her.</p> + +<p>She saw it and appealed to him.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Silver," she said, taking him suddenly, "is she going to ride?"</p> + +<p>The other met her with clearly honest eyes.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," he said.</p> + +<p>The old lady's distress was obvious.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Silver," she said, "please tell me. Do <i>you</i> want her to ride?"</p> + +<p>"No!" he cried, almost with indignation. "Of course I don't. I've seen +too many Nationals."</p> + +<p>"Have you asked her not to?"</p> + +<p>He grinned a little sheepishly.</p> + +<p>"The truth is I've annoyed her," he said. "And she's all spikes when I +touch her."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Woodburn appealed to her husband, but got nothing out of him.</p> + +<p>"It's no good comin' to me, Mar. I don't know nothin' at all about it," +he said shortly. "She's trainin' the hoss. If I so much as looks at him +I gets my nose bit off."</p> + +<p>The old lady's distress was such that at length the young man took his +courage in his hands and approached the girl.</p> + +<p>"Boy," he said, "are you going to ride him? <i>Please</i> tell me."</p> + +<p>The girl set her lips.</p> + +<p>"You think I'm afraid of Aintree," she said deeply.</p> + +<p>"I don't," he pleaded. "I swear to you I don't."</p> + +<p>She was not to be appeased.</p> + +<p>"You do," she answered mercilessly. "You said you did."</p> + +<p>"If I ever did I was only chaffing."</p> + +<p>"I know why you don't want me to ride," she laughed hardly.</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because then you'll be free to win your hundred thousand. That's all +you care about. But you won't. If I don't ride him, he won't win. If I +do, you can't bet."</p> + +<p>The young man was miserable.</p> + +<p>"Hang my hundred thousand!" he cried. "As if I care a rap for that." He +made a final appeal. "If I've done wrong, I can only say I'm most +<i>awfully</i> sorry, Boy."</p> + +<p>"You've done <i>very</i> wrong," replied the girl ruthlessly. "And when we've +done wrong we've got to pay for it," added Preacher Joe.</p> + +<p>"Damn him!" muttered the other.</p> + +<p>"<i>What!</i>" flashed the girl.</p> + +<p>"Sorry," mumbled the young man, and fled with his tail between his legs.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>That afternoon a telegram came for Old Mat.</p> + +<p>He showed it to Silver.</p> + +<p>"That's from Miller, the station-master at Arunvale," he said. "They're +goin' to gallop the mare. Would you like to step over and see what you +can make of her?"</p> + +<p>The young man agreed willingly.</p> + +<p>"No good my comin'," said Mat. "But you might take Monkey Brand +along—if he'll go."</p> + +<p>But the little jockey, when approached, refused.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" asked Silver, determined to save the little man's soul if it +was to be saved.</p> + +<p>"I'm too fond o' Monkey, sir," the other answered, his face inscrutable.</p> + +<p>"What d'you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Why, sir, if they was to catch Monkey in Chukkers's country they'd flay +him."</p> + +<p>"Who would?"</p> + +<p>"The Ikey's Own."</p> + +<p>Silver stared at him.</p> + +<p>"Who are the Ikey's Own?"</p> + +<p>"They're <i>Them!</i>" said Monkey with emphasis. "That's what they are—and +no mistake about it."</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>We are coming. Uncle Ikey, coming fifty million strong,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>For to see the haughty English don't do our Ikey wrong.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"He slipped 'em over special last back-end. Chose 'em for the job. +Bowery toughs; scrubs from Colorado; old man o' the mountains; +cattle-lifters from Mexico; miners from the west; Arizona sharps. Don't +matter who, only so long as they'll draw a gun on you soon as smile. +Come across the ocean to see fair play for the mare. They're campin' +round her—rigiments of 'em. If a sparrer goes too near her, they lays +it out. <i>No blanky hanky-panky this time</i>—that's their motter."</p> + +<p>The young man went alone.</p> + +<p>At Arunvale the station-master beckoned him into the office.</p> + +<p>"It's right, sir," he said keenly. "Chukkers and Ikey come down this +morning. Two-thirty's the time accordin' to my information. I've got a +trap waitin' for you outside. Ginger Harris'll drive you. He was a lad +at Putnam's one time o' day. Now he keeps the Three Cocks by the bridge. +He don't like Jaggers any better than me. Only lay low and mind your +eye. Arunvale's stiff with 'em."</p> + +<p>Silver wished to know more, but he was not to be gratified.</p> + +<p>The station-clerk, as full of mystery as Monkey Brand himself, bustled +him out of the office, finger to his lips.</p> + +<p>"Trap's outside, sir," he whispered. "I won't come with you. There's +eyes everywhere—tongues, too."</p> + +<p>Outside was a gig, and in it sat a red-faced fly-man in a bottle-green +coat and old top-hat, who made room for the young man at his side.</p> + +<p>They drove over the bridge through the town, up the steep, into the vast +rolling Park with the clumps of brown beech-woods that ran down to the +river and the herds of red deer dotting the deep valleys.</p> + +<p>As they passed through the north gate of the Park, Ginger slowed down to +a walk.</p> + +<p>"If I've time it right," he said, "she should be doin' her gallop while +we walks along the ridge. Don't show too keen, sir."</p> + +<p>A long sallow man sitting on the roadside at the edge of the wood eyed +them.</p> + +<p>The driver nudged his companion.</p> + +<p>"One of 'em," he said. "Ikey's Own. Know by the cut of 'em."</p> + +<p>"Many about?" asked Silver.</p> + +<p>"Been all over us since Christmas," answered the other. "Cargo of 'em +landed at Liverpool Bank 'oliday. All sorts. All chose for the job. Stop +at nothin'. If they suspicion you they move you on or put you out. They +watch her same as if she was the Queen of England. And I don't wonder. +Nobody knows the millions she'll carry."</p> + +<p>When they were well past the man at the roadside he whistled. There came +an answering call from the wood in front.</p> + +<p>As they emerged on to the open Downs, Ginger pulled up short.</p> + +<p>"They've done us, sir," he said shortly.</p> + +<p>A hundred yards ahead of them a sheeted chestnut was coming toward them +on the grass alongside the road.</p> + +<p>Jim Silver had only seen the Waler mare once—on the occasion of her +famous victory and defeat at Aintree the previous year; but once seen +Mocassin was never forgotten.</p> + +<p>She came along at that swift, pattering walk of hers, her nose in the +air, and ears twitching.</p> + +<p>"Always the same," whispered Ginger. "In a terrible hurry to get there."</p> + +<p>He had the true Putnam feeling about Jaggers; but that passion of +devotion for the mare, which had inspired the English-speaking race for +the past year, had not left him untouched. Jim Silver felt the little +prosaic man thrilling at his side, and thrilled in his turn. He felt as +he had felt when as a Lower Boy at Eton the Captain of the Boats had +spoken to him—a swimming in the eyes, a brimming of the heart, a +gulping at the throat.</p> + +<p>"Is that Mocassin?" he called to the lad riding the mare.</p> + +<p>"That's the Queen o' Kentucky, sir," replied the other cockily. "Never +was beaten, and never will be—given fair play."</p> + +<p>"Done your gallop?"</p> + +<p>"Half an hour since."</p> + +<p>Ginger drove on discreetly.</p> + +<p>On a knoll, three hundred yards away, four men were standing.</p> + +<p>"There they are!" said Ginger. "Pretty, ain't they?—specially Chukkers. +I don't know who that fat feller is along of 'em."</p> + +<p>But Silver knew very well.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXXIX<br /> + +<span class="smcap">The Queen of Kentucky</span></h4> + + +<p>The little group on the knoll came off the grass on to the road, close +in talk.</p> + +<p>Jaggers was tall and attenuated. He had the look of a self-righteous +ascetic, and dressed with puritanical austerity. No smile ever +irradiated his gaunt face and remorseless eyes. His forehead was +unusually high and white; his manners high, too; and if his morals were +not white, his cravat, that was like a parson's, more than made up for +the defect. It was not surprising then that among the fraternity he was +known as His Reverence, because his bearing gave the impression of a +Nonconformist Minister about to conduct a teetotal campaign.</p> + +<p>Chukkers, who was wearing the familiar jodhpores which he always +affected, was quite a different type. A big man for a jockey, he rarely +rode under eleven stone, though he carried never an ounce of flesh. +Sporting journalists were in the habit of referring to him as a Samson +in the saddle, so large of bone and square of build was he. His success, +indeed, was largely due to his extraordinary strength. It was said that +once in a moment of temper he had crushed a horse's ribs in, while it +was an undeniable fact that he could make a horse squeal by the pressure +of his legs.</p> + +<p>He was clearly a Mongol, some said a Chinaman by origin; and certainly +his great bowed shins, his dirty complexion, his high cheek-bones, and +that impassive Oriental face of his, gave authority to the legend. When +you met him you marked at once that his eyes were reluctant to catch +yours; and when they did you saw two little gashes opening on +sullen-twinkling muddy waters.</p> + +<p>The worst of us have our redeeming features. And Chukkers with all his +crude defects possessed at least one outstanding virtue—faithfulness—to +the man who had made him. Ikey had brought him as a lad into the country +where he had made his name; Ikey had given him his chance; to Ikey for +twenty-five years now he had stuck with unswerving devotion, in spite of +temptation manifold, often-repeated, and aggravated. The relations between +the two men were the subject of much gossip. They never talked of each +other; and though often together, very rarely spoke. Chukkers was never +known to express admiration or affection or even respect for his master. +But the bond between them was intimate and profound. It was notorious that +the jockey would throw over the Heir to the Throne himself at the last +moment to ride for the little Levantine. And of late years it had been +increasingly rare for him to sport any but the star-spangled jacket.</p> + +<p>Ikey Aaronsohnn, the third of the famous Three, walked between the other +two, as befitted the brain and purse of the concern. He was a typical +Levantine, Semitic, even Simian, small-featured, and dark. In his youth +he must have been pretty, and there was still a certain charm about him. +He had qualities, inherent and super-imposed, entirely lacking to his +two colleagues. A man of education and some natural refinement, he had a +delicious sense of humour which helped him to an enjoyment of life and +such a genial appreciation of his own malpractices and those of others +as to make him the best of company and far the most popular of the Three +J's.</p> + +<p>If Chukkers was little more than an animal-riding animal, and Jaggers an +artistic fraud, Ikey was a rascal of a highly differentiated and +engaging type. A man of admirable tenacity he had clung for twenty-five +years to the ideal which Chukkers's discovery of Mocassin two years +since had brought within his grasp.</p> + +<p>The disqualification of the mare at Liverpool last year after the great +race had served only to whet his appetite and kindle his faith.</p> + +<p>A quarter of a century before he had set himself to find the horse that +would beat the English thoroughbred at Aintree. And in Mocassin he had +at last achieved his aim.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>If a cloud of romance hung about the mare, veiling in part her past, +some points at least stood out clear.</p> + +<p>It was known that her dam was a Virginian mare of the stately kind which +of late years has filled the eye in the sale-ring at Newmarket and held +its own between the flags. And piquancy was added by the fact, recorded +in the Kentucky stud-book, that the dam traced her origin direct to +Iroquois who in the Derby of 1881 had lowered the English colours to the +dust.</p> + +<p>Again there was no doubt that the mare had been born in a yellow-pine +shack in the Cumberlands, on an old homestead—made familiar to millions +in both continents by the picture papers—known as Blue Mounds, and +owned by a Quaker farmer who was himself the great-grandson of a pioneer +Friend, who in the last years of the eighteenth century had crossed the +mountains with his family and flocks, like Abraham of old, and had won +for himself this clearing from the primeval forest, driving farther west +its ancient denizens.</p> + +<p>So much, not even the arrogant English dared to dispute.</p> + +<p>But the rest was mystery. It was said that Jaggers himself did not know +who was Mocassin's sire; and that Ikey and Chukkers, the only two who +did, were so close that they never let on even to each other. True the +English, with characteristic bluff, when they discovered that they had +found their mistress in the mare, took it for granted that her sire was +an imported English horse and even named him. But Ikey and Chukkers both +denied the importation with emphasis.</p> + +<p>Then there were those who traced her origin to a horse from the Bombay +Arab stables. These swore they could detect the Prophet's Thumb on the +mare's auburn neck. The Waler School had many backers; and there were +even a few cranks who suggested for the place of honour a curly-eared +Kathiawar horse. But the All-American School, dominant in the States and +Southern Republic, maintained with truculence that a Spanish stallion +from the Pampas was the only sire for God Almighty's Mustang. The wild +horse theory, as it was called, appealed to popular sentiment, however +remote from the fact, and helped to build the legend of the mare. And in +support of the theory, it must be said that Mocassin, in spite of her +lovableness, had in her more of the jaguar than of the domestic cat, +grown indolent, selfish, and fat through centuries of security and +sleep.</p> + +<p>"Wild as the wildman and sweet as the briar-rose," was the saying they +had about her in the homestead where she was bred.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Ikey got into his car and rolled away through the dust toward Brighton.</p> + +<p>The other three men strolled back to the yard.</p> + +<p>"Bar accidents, there's only one you've got to fear," said Joses.</p> + +<p>"And that's the Putnam horse," put in Jaggers.</p> + +<p>"How's he comin' along?" asked the jockey.</p> + +<p>"Great guns," the fat man replied.</p> + +<p>"Think he's a Berserk?" asked Jaggers.</p> + +<p>"I know it," said Joses. "Stolen jump. The stable-lads let him out on +that old man for a lark. He's the spit of the old horse, only bigger."</p> + +<p>"He must be a big un then," said Jaggers.</p> + +<p>"He is," Chukkers answered. "And he's in at ten stun. The mare's givin' +him a ton o' weight. And weight is weight at Liverpool."</p> + +<p>"She'll do it," said Jaggers confidently. "I'll back my Iroquois against +their Berserk—if Berserk he is."</p> + +<p>"He's Berserk," said Chukkers doggedly. "A blind man at midnight could +tell that from his fencing. Goes at 'em like a lion. Such a lift to him, +too! Is Monkey Brand goin' to ride him?" he asked Joses.</p> + +<p>"No. Turned down. Too old."</p> + +<p>"Then the lad as rode him at Lingfield will," said Chukkers. "Sooner him +than Monkey anyway. If Monkey couldn't win himself he'd see I didn't. +Ride me down and ram me. The lad wouldn't 'ave the nerve. Face like a +girl."</p> + +<p>"Monkey ain't the only one," muttered Joses. "Silver's in it, too—up to +the neck."</p> + +<p>When Joses left to catch his train Jaggers accompanied him across the +yard.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, "if she wins there'll be plenty for all."</p> + +<p>The tout hovered in the gate.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad to hear it," he said, with emphasis. "<i>Very</i> glad."</p> + +<p>Jaggers threw up his head in that free, frank way of his.</p> + +<p>"What, Joses?" he said. "You're not short?"</p> + +<p>"Things aren't too flush with me, Mr. Jaggers," muttered the fat man.</p> + +<p>Jaggers stared out over the Downs.</p> + +<p>"If that Putnam horse was not to start it would be worth a monkey to +you," he said, cold and casual.</p> + +<p>The other shot a swift and surreptitious glance at him.</p> + +<p>Jaggers had on his best pulpit air.</p> + +<p>"Don't start," mused Joses. "That's a tall order."</p> + +<p>The trainer picked his teeth.</p> + +<p>"A monkey's money," he said.</p> + +<p>The fat man sniggered.</p> + +<p>"It's worth money, too," he remarked.</p> + +<p>"Give you a new start in a new country," continued Jaggers. "Quite the +capitalist."</p> + +<p>Joses's eyes wandered.</p> + +<p>"I don't say it mightn't fix it," he said at last cautiously. "But it'd +mean cash. Could you give me something on account?"</p> + +<p>His Reverence was prepared.</p> + +<p>He took a leather case out of his pocket and handed over five +bank-notes.</p> + +<p>"There's a pony," he said. "Now I don't want to see you till after the +race. You know me. Me word's me bond. It's all out this time."</p> + +<p>With a proud and priestly air he strode back to the house.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XL" id="CHAPTER_XL"></a>CHAPTER XL<br /> + +<span class="smcap">Man and Woman</span></h4> + + +<p>Silver and Joses went back to Cuckmere by the same train from Brighton.</p> + +<p>The young man was well-established in a first-class smoker, and the +train was about to start when the fat man came puffing along the +platform. He was very hot; and out of his pocket bulged a brown paper +parcel. The paper had burst and the head of a wooden mallet was exposed.</p> + +<p>Silver, quiet in his corner, remarked that mallet.</p> + +<p>That night he took a round of the stable-buildings before he went to +bed, as his custom had been of late. There was nobody stirring but +Maudie, meandering around like a ghost who did not feel well.</p> + +<p>He went to the back of the Lads' Barn, and looked across the Paddock +Close. A light in the window of a cottage shone out solitary in the +darkness.</p> + +<p>It was the cottage in which Joses lived, and the light came from an +upper window.</p> + +<p>Silver strolled along the back of the stable-buildings toward it.</p> + +<p>Under Boy's window he paused, as was his wont.</p> + +<p>A light within showed that the girl was in her eyrie. Then the light +went out, and the window opened quietly.</p> + +<p>Shyness overcame the young man. He moved away and went back to the +corner in the saddle-room he had made his own—partly because he could +smoke there undisturbed, and far more because it was directly under the +girl's room, and he loved to hear her stirring above him.</p> + +<p>He lit his pipe, settled himself, and began to brood.</p> + +<p>The girl was still there—he could tell by the sound; and still at the +window.</p> + +<p>A vague curiosity possessed him as to what attracted her. Then she +crossed the floor with that determined step of hers, and went along the +loft, the planks betraying her.</p> + +<p>He heard her swift feet on the ladder, and coming down the gangway +toward the saddle-room.</p> + +<p>In another moment she stood before him. A woolly cap was on her head, +and a long muffler flung about her throat. It was clear that she was +going out. He noticed with surprise that her race-glasses were slung +over her shoulders.</p> + +<p>"I came for the electric torch," she remarked.</p> + +<p>He rose and pocketed it.</p> + +<p>"Right," he said. "Whither away?"</p> + +<p>"I don't want you," she answered.</p> + +<p>"I'm coming along, though."</p> + +<p>"You can't," coldly.</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"I'm going spying."</p> + +<p>"Good," he answered cheerfully.</p> + +<p>She led out into the night. He followed her.</p> + +<p>In the yard she paused again.</p> + +<p>"And spying's only for people like me," she continued daintily. "It's +not work for the gentry."</p> + +<p>They were walking across the Paddock Close now under dim heavens toward +the light in the cottage across the way.</p> + +<p>"I suppose not," he answered imperturbably. "I'm glad I'm not one."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but you are," with quiet insistence. "Your father could have been a +peer. You've told us about it many a time."</p> + +<p>Jim Silver was roused. He surged up alongside the girl in the night, and +pinched her arm above the elbow.</p> + +<p>"Now look here, little woman!" he said.</p> + +<p>She released her arm.</p> + +<p>"Not so loud," she ordered. "And don't creak so."</p> + +<p>They walked delicately in the darkness, the light guiding them, till +they came to the ragged hedge at the foot of a long strip of cottage +garden.</p> + +<p>The night was very warm, the blinds up, the windows wide.</p> + +<p>Joses, in his shirt-sleeves, was busy within working at something.</p> + +<p>The girl watched awhile through her glasses and then withdrew quietly.</p> + +<p>"He's whittling at wooden pegs," she whispered, keen as a knife.</p> + +<p>"Obviously."</p> + +<p>"What was that coil on the table?"</p> + +<p>"Wire."</p> + +<p>"And the thing beside it?"</p> + +<p>"Mallet."</p> + +<p>She glanced up at him in the dusk.</p> + +<p>"You're short," she said.</p> + +<p>The stables showed before them, long and black against the sky.</p> + +<p>They were nearly off the grass. In another moment their feet would take +the cobbles with a noise.</p> + +<p>The girl paused and put her hand on her companion's arm.</p> + +<p>"Thank you for coming," she said.</p> + +<p>The resistance died out of him at once. He stood breathing deeply at her +side.</p> + +<p>She lifted her face to his.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Silver!"</p> + +<p>"Sweetheart!"</p> + +<p>He loomed above her like a great shadow; and she felt his love beating +all about her as with wings.</p> + +<p>"Bend your head!"</p> + +<p>His face drew down to hers in the dusk.</p> + +<p>Then his arms stole about her lithe body; and his laughter was in her +ear soft as the cooing of a dove.</p> + +<p>"Don't kiss me," she said.</p> + +<p>"You deserve it," he replied.</p> + +<p>Her hands rested light as birds upon his shoulders; her eyes were steady +in his, and very close.</p> + +<p>"D'you love me?" she asked, her voice so calm, so pure, somehow so like +a singing star.</p> + +<p>He choked.</p> + +<p>"A bit—sometimes."</p> + +<p>"Then I'll whisper you," she said.</p> + +<p>Her beautiful little arms, wreathing about his neck, drew his ear to her +lips.</p> + +<p>She whispered.</p> + +<p>He chuckled deeply.</p> + +<p>"Good," he said, and added—"Is that all?"</p> + +<p>She released him and withdrew.</p> + +<p>"For the present," she said.</p> + +<p>They entered the yard. The light of the great stable-lantern brought +them back from the land of dreams.</p> + +<p>They cleared their throats and trod the cobbles aggressively.</p> + +<p>She went toward the ladder. He turned off for the house.</p> + +<p>"What time d'you take the hill?" he called.</p> + +<p>"Six sharp."</p> + +<p>"Right."</p> + +<p>"Shall you be there?"</p> + +<p>She spoke from the door of the loft, at the top of the ladder.</p> + +<p>"Might," he said, and was gone.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XLI" id="CHAPTER_XLI"></a>CHAPTER XLI<br /> + +<span class="smcap">The Spider's Web</span></h4> + + +<p>It was Monkey Brand's cause of complaint against the young man that he +was too simple; but if his suspicions were difficult to rouse, once +roused they were not easily appeased.</p> + +<p>He was up and away next morning before even Boy and Albert were about.</p> + +<p>Dressed in a sweater and gray flannel trousers, he swung up the hill. As +he reached the summit he looked back and saw the brown horse and his +attendant beginning the ascent.</p> + +<p>Swiftly he walked along the gallop, his eyes everywhere, suspecting he +knew not what. The gorse grew close and dark on either side the naked +course. He watched it closely as he went, and the occasional shrill +spurt of a bird betrayed movement in the covert—it might be of a +weasel, a fox, or a man.</p> + +<p>The morning was chill and misty, the turf sodden and shining. At one +spot the gorse marched in close-ranked upon the green until only a +passage of some thirty yards was left. As he walked down the narrow way +something flashed at his feet, and caught him smartly across the shin. +He tripped and fell.</p> + +<p>A wire was stretched across the gallop some four inches above the +ground. It was taut and stout, and shone like a gossamer in the mist. He +rose and followed it. It ran right athwart the course and lost itself in +the gorse on either side. Silver searched and found the wire was bound +about two wooden pegs that had been hammered into the earth.</p> + +<p>The pegs were so fast that his fall against the wire had not shifted +them.</p> + +<p>He looked back along the way he had come.</p> + +<p>The horse had not yet made his appearance on the brow.</p> + +<p>Bending over a peg, and bowing his back, the young man heaved, twisted, +and lurched. It took him all his time to uproot it, but he did so at +last.</p> + +<p>Then he glanced up.</p> + +<p>Four-Pound-the-Second had topped the brow half a mile away.</p> + +<p>Silver took the peg and began to roll up the wire leisurely. As he did +so he was aware of a man standing in the gorse on the other side of the +gallop watching him. Silver did not raise his eyes, but had no doubt as +to the man's identity.</p> + +<p>It was the other who opened the conversation, coming out of the gorse on +to the track.</p> + +<p>"That's an ugly bit of wire," he said. "Now how did that get there, I +wonder?"</p> + +<p>"Spider spun it, I guess," answered the young man laconically.</p> + +<p>"What!" laughed the other. "Gossamer is it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Silver. "And not bad gossamer at that." He looked up +suddenly. "Where did you get it from?—the same place you bought the +mallet in Brighton?"</p> + +<p>The tout swaggered across the green.</p> + +<p>"See here, Silver," he said. "None of that. You're not in the position +to come it over me now you've joined the great company of +gentlemen-adventurers. There's nothing in it since the Bank broke. We +both stand together on the common quicksands of economic insecurity."</p> + +<p>Silver wound up the wire.</p> + +<p>"Common quicksands of economic insecurity is good," he said +deliberately. "Distinctly good."</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied the other. "I learned it at Oxford, where I learned a lot +besides. Or to put it straight, we're both naked men now—stripped to +the world. And I'm as good a man as you are."</p> + +<p>Silver dropped the wire and advanced leisurely.</p> + +<p>"Are you?" he said. "I doubt it. But we'll soon see."</p> + +<p>The fat man produced a mallet from behind his back.</p> + +<p>"No —— nonsense," he snarled.</p> + +<p>"I thought you said we were both naked men," replied Silver, folding his +arms.</p> + +<p>"Never mind what I said," the other answered. "Keep your —— distance, +or I'll puddle you into a pulp."</p> + +<p>Jim regarded the other with admiring eyes.</p> + +<p>"You learned more at Oxford than I did," he said. "Learned to express +yourself at least. If I'd that command of language I'd be in the pulpit +or in Parliament to-morrow."</p> + +<p>There was the sound of a horse's feet behind them.</p> + +<p>Boy was walking Four-Pound-the-Second toward them.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, Miss Woodburn," called Joses cheerily. "So <i>you're</i> up +to-day."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the girl.</p> + +<p>"Going to take him for a spin?"</p> + +<p>Boy did not answer.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Joses has been doing the spinning this morning," interposed Silver +urbanely, holding up the wire.</p> + +<p>"Oh," said the fat man. "I'll leave him to spin his yarn, Miss Woodburn. +But don't you believe all he says. You'll hear the truth when I bring +the case into court. He'll want all the money <i>you</i> can win him by the +time I've done with him."</p> + +<p>He disappeared down the hillside.</p> + +<p>The girl came close and leaned down over the shoulder of the great +horse.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" she asked.</p> + +<p>Jim Silver showed her.</p> + +<p>"Only this," he said. "Right across the track."</p> + +<p>The girl took it as all in the day's work.</p> + +<p>"Did you catch him at it?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"No; he was lying doggo near by—to watch results."</p> + +<p>She examined the wire.</p> + +<p>"He means business all right," she said. "We must look a bit lively. +I'll have the track patrolled."</p> + +<p>"I shall patrol it," said Jim.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XLII" id="CHAPTER_XLII"></a>CHAPTER XLII<br /> + +<span class="smcap">The Doper</span></h4> + + +<p>In her darker moods Maudie held that the world to-day only possessed one +man who could take his place beside the knights of old; and that man, to +be sure, was Monkey Brand.</p> + +<p>The lads teased or ignored her; the various Four-legs were uncouth to a +degree; and the Monster-without-Manners was, of course, just himself.</p> + +<p>Therefore Maudie passed all the time she could on the shoulder of +Putnam's Only Gentleman. Perched up there, aloof, lofty, and disdainful, +she would purr away like a kettle on the simmer.</p> + +<p>That evening she was enthroned in Paradise, when Joses shambled by.</p> + +<p>Monkey Brand, stroking her back as he stood at the gate of the yard +exchanging greetings with the passers-by in the road, shook his head +disapprovingly as Joses passed.</p> + +<p>"Mug's game, Mr. Joses," he said <i>sotto voce</i>.</p> + +<p>The fat man, who had not seen the jockey in the dusk, drew up short.</p> + +<p>"What's that?" he said keenly.</p> + +<p>"That wire business," continued the little man in the same monotonous +undertone without moving his lips. "Ought to be able to do a little +better than that with an edication like yours. Where's the good of +Oxford else?"</p> + +<p>Joses came closer swiftly.</p> + +<p>"See here, Monkey Brand," he said. "Do you mean business, or don't you?"</p> + +<p>The jockey's face was inscrutable.</p> + +<p>"I never said no to <i>good</i> business yet," he answered.</p> + +<p>"This is good business all right," laughed the tout. "Big money, and +safe as houses."</p> + +<p>At the moment a voice called from the office.</p> + +<p>"Comin,' sir," answered the little jockey. "<i>That's the Gov'nor. Back o' +Lads' Barn. Eight o'clock</i>," he whispered, and was gone.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Joses kept the tryst, and went straight to the point.</p> + +<p>He had burned his boats now.</p> + +<p>"When do they box him to Liverpool?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Monday," answered the other, who seemed very surly. "If you want to do +anything, you must move sharp, Mr. Joses. It's here or nowhere, mind. +You won't get no chance at Aintree. Too many cops around."</p> + +<p>"Who's watching him at night?"</p> + +<p>"Monkey."</p> + +<p>"Does Monkey ever nod?"</p> + +<p>The little man looked at the stars.</p> + +<p>"No sayin' but he might—if he was to took a drop o' soothin' syrup."</p> + +<p>"What about the dog?"</p> + +<p>"He could 'ave some soothin' syrup, too. 'Elp him with his teethin'."</p> + +<p>The tout turned his back with a somewhat unnecessary regard for decency, +produced a bank-note and flourished it.</p> + +<p>"What's that?" asked Monkey.</p> + +<p>"Little bit o' crumpled paper."</p> + +<p>"Let's see it."</p> + +<p>"You may smell it. Only don't touch."</p> + +<p>"Will it drop to pieces?"</p> + +<p>Joses swept away the other's appropriating hand.</p> + +<p>"Might burn your fingers," he said. "That's what I'm thinking of. That's +to buy you a bottle of Mother Siegel's soothing syrup. There's only one +thing," he went on, brandishing the note in the moon. "Looks a wistful +little thing, don't you think? That's because he's lonely. He's left +four little brothers and sisters same as himself at home. And he's +pining for 'em to join him. And join him they will to-morrow night—if +you'll let me in to his loose-box."</p> + +<p>Jaggers at his best never looked more self-righteous than Monkey Brand +as he made reply:</p> + +<p>"I couldn't let you into his loose-box, Mr. Joses," he said quietly. +"Wouldn't be right. Only the door'll be on the latch, and if you choose +to come in—why, who's to stop you?"</p> + +<p>"Right," laughed the other. "I'm an artist, I am, as you may recall. I'd +like to paint you in your sleep. Study of Innocence I should call it."</p> + +<p>He dropped away into the darkness.</p> + +<p>A whistle stopped him.</p> + +<p>The little jockey was limping after him.</p> + +<p>"Say to-night," he said.</p> + +<p>"No," said the fat man. "To-morrow night. Sunday night. That's the night +for good deeds."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>At ten that night Jim Silver escorted Boy Woodburn across the yard to +the foot of the ladder.</p> + +<p>For a moment the two stood at the foot of the ladder in talk. Then the +girl disappeared into the loft.</p> + +<p>As Silver turned away he was whistling.</p> + +<p>Monkey Brand, who was standing in the stable-door near by, lantern in +hand, preparatory to taking up his watch in the young horse's box, +coughed.</p> + +<p>Silver turned and saw him.</p> + +<p>"Good-night," he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said the little man, gazing up at the moon. "There <i>is</i> some +good in him after all. <i>Some</i> good in us all, I s'poses."</p> + +<p>Jim Silver approached him. He knew the little man well enough by now to +know that he was always most round-about in his methods when he had +something of importance to convey.</p> + +<p>"In who?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Monkey looked surprised and somewhat resentful.</p> + +<p>"Why, Mr. Joses, o' cos."</p> + +<p>"What's he done now?" asked the young man.</p> + +<p>Monkey withdrew into the shadow of the door.</p> + +<p>"That," he said, producing the five-pound note.</p> + +<p>Jim handled it.</p> + +<p>"What did he give you that for?"</p> + +<p>"Why, for lookin' down me nose and sayin A-a men. The rest's to follow +to-morrow midnight—five of 'em—if I'm a good boy, as I 'opes to be. +Goin' to drop into me lap same as manners from the ceilin' when Moses +was around—while I sleeps like a suckin' innocent."</p> + +<p>The young man thought.</p> + +<p>"Have you told Mr. Woodburn?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir. I told no one—only you."</p> + +<p>"Shall you tell the police?"</p> + +<p>"Never!" cried Monkey, genuinely indignant. "Are I a copper's nark?"</p> + +<p>Whether because of childhood memories, or for some other reason, the +copper was still for Monkey Brand the enemy of the human race; and the +little jockey had his own code of honour, to which he scrupulously +adhered.</p> + +<p>"What shall you do?" asked Jim.</p> + +<p>The jockey jerked his head mysteriously. Then he limped away down the +gangway, behind sleeping horses, into the loose-box at the end where +stood Four-Pound-the-Second.</p> + +<p>Carefully he closed the door behind the young man and put his lantern +down.</p> + +<p>"See, you thought I was on the crook, didn't you, sir?" he said +ironically, pursing his eye-lids.</p> + +<p>"So you are," replied the young man.</p> + +<p>Monkey wagged his head sententiously.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm on the crook all right in a manner o' speakin'," he admitted. +"Only where it is, there's crooks and crooks. There's crooks that is on +the straight—"</p> + +<p>"And there's straights that is on the crook," interposed Jim. "As per +item, Monkey Brand."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Next morning Silver went to see Old Mat in his office and opened to him +a tale; but the trainer, who seemed very sleepy these days, refused to +hear him.</p> + +<p>"I knows nothin' about nothin'," he said almost querulously, pursing his +lips, and sheathing his eyes. "As to rogues and rasqueals, you knows my +views by now, Mr. Silver. Same as the Psalmist's, as I've said afore. As +for the rest, I'm an old man—older nor I can recollect. All I asks is +to lay down and die quiet and peaceable with nothin' on me conscience +only last night's cheese."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XLIII" id="CHAPTER_XLIII"></a>CHAPTER XLIII<br /> + +<span class="smcap">The Loose-box</span></h4> + + +<p>Next night Boy Woodburn was unusually late to bed.</p> + +<p>Sunday nights she always devoted to preparing the Bible-lesson for next +week.</p> + +<p>Of old she had always retired to her room in the loft after supper on +Sunday to wrestle with her labours; but as her mother grew into years, +the girl had adopted the habit of working in the parlour.</p> + +<p>On this Sunday she worked on long after her father and mother had gone +to bed, reading and making notes. Once the door opened, and she was +dimly aware of Mr. Silver standing in it. He departed quietly as he had +come without a word, but her subconsciousness noted vaguely and with +surprise that he was wearing a greatcoat and muffler as if he was going +out.</p> + +<p>It was eleven o'clock when she closed her book and crossed the yard.</p> + +<p>Under the ladder to the loft a door led to a woodshed at the end of the +stable.</p> + +<p>As she went up the ladder she heard somebody moving in the shed.</p> + +<p>"Who's that?" she asked sharply.</p> + +<p>There was no answer.</p> + +<p>She descended and tried the door.</p> + +<p>It was locked.</p> + +<p>"That's all right, Boy," called a quiet voice. "It's only me."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Silver," she cried. "What on earth are you up to?"</p> + +<p>"After a rat."</p> + +<p>"A queer time to choose."</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said. "He's a big 'un. I'm sitting for him."</p> + +<p>"Good-night then," she called, and ran up the ladder, heralded by the +swift and ghostly Maudie.</p> + +<p>The trap-door over Four-Pound-the-Second's box was open as always. She +peeped down on to the back of the horse and Monkey Brand, busy by the +light of his lantern, arranging a pile of horse-blankets in the corner +on which to sleep.</p> + +<p>"Where's Billy Bluff?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Just gone outside a minute, Miss."</p> + +<p>Four-Pound-the-Second moved restlessly.</p> + +<p>"Give him some water," she directed, "and settle him down as soon as you +can."</p> + +<p>"Very good, Miss," the little jockey answered.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was an hour later that the stable-door clicked and Joses entered.</p> + +<p>He was wearing rope-soled shoes, and he moved softly behind the long +line of horses.</p> + +<p>In his slouch hat and loose cloak he looked like a stage conspirator.</p> + +<p>Monkey Brand was nodding on an upturned bucket.</p> + +<p>As the fat man entered the loose-box, the great horse turned a shining +eye on him and whinnied.</p> + +<p>Monkey blinked, stirred, and grunted:</p> + +<p>"'Ello!"</p> + +<p>He smelt strongly of whiskey.</p> + +<p>The tout, unheeding him, produced a twitch.</p> + +<p>But Monkey rose with heavy eyes and jerked it irritably out of the +other's hand.</p> + +<p>"None o' that," he said.</p> + +<p>He nodded to the open trap-door overhead.</p> + +<p>"She sleeps up there, don't she?" whispered the fat man.</p> + +<p>"She never sleeps," muttered the other. "Got the stuff?" he asked +drowsily.</p> + +<p>Joses produced a bottle from the pocket of his cloak.</p> + +<p>Monkey looked around.</p> + +<p>"Where's a blurry bucket?" he asked, and with faltering hands inverted +the one on which he had been sitting.</p> + +<p>"Put a drop of water in," urged the fat man.</p> + +<p>The little man obeyed, moving uncertainly.</p> + +<p>"Is he dry?" asked Joses.</p> + +<p>"I wish I'd only 'alf his thirst," drowsed the other.</p> + +<p>The fat man removed the cork from the bottle. Monkey seized it rudely +and sniffed it.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" he asked sullenly.</p> + +<p>"Nothing to hurt him," said Joses soothingly. "Just take the shine out +of him for a day or two."</p> + +<p>The jockey was so drunk that he needed humouring. The tout cursed his +faulty judgment in having given the little man money to spend before the +deed had been done.</p> + +<p>Monkey let his heavy-lidded eyes rest on the other. He was breathing +almost stertorously. Then he pushed the bottle back toward Joses.</p> + +<p>"I mush trush you," he said, "same as you trush me. You wouldn't deceive +me, Oxford genelman and all."</p> + +<p>"What d'you take me for?" answered Joses.</p> + +<p>He poured the stuff into the bucket that Monkey held. It was dark and +sweet-smelling. Four-Pound-the-Second sniffed with inflated nostrils.</p> + +<p>"Hist!" cried Monkey.</p> + +<p>"What's that?"</p> + +<p>"Somebury at the door."</p> + +<p>"The door's all right. I locked it."</p> + +<p>"He's got a key."</p> + +<p>"Who has?"</p> + +<p>"Silver."</p> + +<p>"Is he on the ramp?"</p> + +<p>"Ain't he?" snorted Monkey. "Hundred thousand—and the gal." He added +with a snort: "Thought I were a copper's nark. Good as told me so."</p> + +<p>Joses stole down the gangway to the door.</p> + +<p>When he came back Monkey was holding the bucket to +Four-Pound-the-Second, who was drinking noisily.</p> + +<p>"It was only the cat," he said. "I heard her scuttle."</p> + +<p>"Don't it smell funny?" whispered Monkey, swirling the bucket gently +under the horse's muzzle.</p> + +<p>Joses patted the drinking horse.</p> + +<p>"There's the beauty," he said. "Suck it down. It'll give you pleasant +dreams."</p> + +<p>Four-Pound-the-Second had his fill by now and moved away.</p> + +<p>Joses picked up his twitch and made for the door.</p> + +<p>Monkey placed himself between the fat man and the exit, heavy-lidded, +stertorous, and menacing.</p> + +<p>"One thing," he said.</p> + +<p>"What's that?"</p> + +<p>"Them little bits o' paper there was some talk about."</p> + +<p>"Oh, aye, I was forgettin' them."</p> + +<p>"Was you, then? I wasn't," said Monkey brutally. "Dole 'em out."</p> + +<p>The fat man obeyed with a snigger; then shuffled softly down the passage +and out.</p> + +<p>Monkey Brand heard him open the door and cross the yard.</p> + +<p>Then a voice called:</p> + +<p>"Hi at him!"</p> + +<p>There was a scurry of pursuing feet, a scuffle, and a yell.</p> + +<p>The jockey rushed out into the yard.</p> + +<p>Joses was disappearing over the gate, flinging something behind him, and +Billy Bluff was smothered in a cape which he was worrying.</p> + +<p>Jim Silver, racing across the yard, snatched the cape from the dog.</p> + +<p>A window flung open.</p> + +<p>Boy looked out.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" she cried.</p> + +<p>"It's all right, Miss," answered Monkey. "No 'arm done."</p> + +<p>The girl came swiftly down the ladder in the moonlight. She was in her +wrapper, her short hair massed.</p> + +<p>"Is the horse all right?" she cried.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Miss."</p> + +<p>"Where's Billy Bluff?"</p> + +<p>"There."</p> + +<p>Silver turned his electric torch on to a far corner of the yard, where +the dog was seen chewing a lump of meat.</p> + +<p>Boy flung herself on him and tore it away.</p> + +<p>"Hold him!" she cried to Jim. "Between your knees! Force his mouth open! +Mind yourself now."</p> + +<p>She brought the stable-hose to bear upon the dog's extended mouth. He +wrestled hugely in the grip of the young man's knees, gasping, +spluttering, whining for mercy. But mercy there was none. The girl +drenched him with the hose, and the man who was holding him.</p> + +<p>"Go and get the tandem whip!" she cried.</p> + +<p>Monkey ran.</p> + +<p>"Now stand at the gates, both of you, and don't let him through."</p> + +<p>Boy seized the whip and hunted the dog about the yard. He fled madly. +For five minutes the girl pursued him remorselessly. Then he was +violently sick.</p> + +<p>"That's better," panted the girl. "Bring that meat, Brand."</p> + +<p>She led the way into Four-Pound-the-Second's horse-box, followed by +Silver, torch in hand.</p> + +<p>"<i>He's</i> not taken much harm," she said, patting the horse in her +deliberate way.</p> + +<p>A delicious little figure she made in her striped pyjamas, her wrapper +girt about her, her feet bare in shining black pumps, and her short hair +thick and curling about her neck.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she was aware of her companion and withdrew into herself as she +felt him watching her.</p> + +<p>"Sweetheart honey," he purred, reaching out tender hands toward her.</p> + +<p>She put up a warning finger.</p> + +<p>"There's no one looking," he answered her.</p> + +<p>"Yes, there is."</p> + +<p>"Who?"</p> + +<p>"Four-Pound."</p> + +<p>"He don't matter."</p> + +<p>"I'm not sure," she answered gravely. "He's a funny little look in his +eye."</p> + +<p>He was making passes close to her face and throat. She restrained him.</p> + +<p>"Wait," she said gently.</p> + +<p>He dropped his hands.</p> + +<p>"I shall go back to bed now," she continued. "You'd better turn in, +too—now you've caught your rat."</p> + +<p>"I've cut off his tail anyway," laughed the young man, showing the +cloak.</p> + +<p>Swathed in her light wrapper, the little creature shuffled swiftly down +the gangway behind the line of sleeping horses, her pumps, too big for +her bare feet, clacking on the pavement.</p> + +<p>He followed her heavily, his eyes brimming laughter and delight.</p> + +<p>A few minutes later Silver joined Monkey Brand in the loose-box.</p> + +<p>"Good little try-on, sir," said the jockey busily. "Funny smelling stuff +though."</p> + +<p>Removing a rug, he produced a bucket hidden beneath and held it to the +other's nose.</p> + +<p>"Chuck it down the drain," said the young man.</p> + +<p>"'Alf a mo, sir," protested Monkey Brand. "Let me fill me bottle first."</p> + +<p>He looked up at the young man with extraordinary cunning.</p> + +<p>"Ever know'd a monkey get squiffy?" he asked confidentially. "No. Nor me +neever."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XLIV" id="CHAPTER_XLIV"></a>CHAPTER XLIV<br /> + +<span class="smcap">Monkey Brand Gets the Sack</span></h4> + + +<p>Joses was lying on his bed in the gray of dawn, looking curiously livid, +when somebody whistled beneath his window.</p> + +<p>He rose and looked out.</p> + +<p>Monkey was standing morosely in the garden underneath.</p> + +<p>The fat man beckoned him in, and returned to his bed.</p> + +<p>The little jockey entered.</p> + +<p>He was dark, sullen, dangerous.</p> + +<p>"Well?" said the tout, lying in disarray upon the bed.</p> + +<p>"I thought you'd done a get-away," said Monkey surlily.</p> + +<p>"I've been queer," answered the other. "Has the stuff worked?"</p> + +<p>"Worked!" cried the jockey, with smothered fury. "It's worked <i>my</i> trick +all right. Never touched the 'orse. Run through him like so much water. +The chemist who made up that stuff doped you and not the 'orse—and done +me."</p> + +<p>"What they done to you?"</p> + +<p>"Took the cash off me, and give me the —— boot instead."</p> + +<p>The tout considered.</p> + +<p>"He's fit, is he?"</p> + +<p>"Fit?" snorted the little man. "He's throwin' back-somersaults in his +box. That's all."</p> + +<p>"When do they box him for Liverpool?"</p> + +<p>"Twelve-fifteen train."</p> + +<p>Joses gathered himself with difficulty.</p> + +<p>"See here, Brand," he said. "Are you straight?"</p> + +<p>"Straight!" shouted Monkey. "Would I ha' sold the guv'nor I serve for +twenty year if I wasn't straight."</p> + +<p>The fat man pulled on his boots.</p> + +<p>"Never say die till you're dead," he said. "We must go north, too. +There's the last card and we must play it."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Nobody but those immediately concerned were at Polefax station to see +the local National horse boxed for Liverpool.</p> + +<p>Albert was there, and Boy, her collar about her ears, and Billy Bluff +looking unusually dejected.</p> + +<p>Old Mat, it was remarked by the porters, was not present; and Monkey +Brand, it was also remarked, though at the station, took no part in the +proceedings, huddling over the fire in the waiting-room, a desolate +little figure of woe.</p> + +<p>As the young horse entered his box at a siding, the train from Brighton +came into the station.</p> + +<p>Silver stepped out of it, a cloak over his arm.</p> + +<p>He did not join the little group busy about the box, but made for the +solitary figure watching from the far end of the platform.</p> + +<p>"Your cloak, Mr. Joses," he said pleasantly.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," replied the fat man, cold and casual. "I shall want it at +Liverpool."</p> + +<p>"You left it behind you last night."</p> + +<p>"I did," admitted the other. "I was having a chat with Monkey Brand. +And that brute of a dog came for me as I left."</p> + +<p>"The bottle you brought's in the pocket," continued Silver.</p> + +<p>"Good," said Joses. "I hope there's something in it."</p> + +<p>"Nothing now."</p> + +<p>"Ah, shame! You shouldn't hold out false hopes."</p> + +<p>Silver's chin became aggressive.</p> + +<p>"Doping's a crime, Mr. Joses."</p> + +<p>"Is that so, Mr. Silver?"</p> + +<p>"Your attempt to dope that horse last night puts you within the grip of +the law."</p> + +<p>"Who says I attempted to dope him?"</p> + +<p>"I do."</p> + +<p>"Any evidence to support your libellous statement?"</p> + +<p>"What about the notes you gave Monkey Brand?"</p> + +<p>The fat man laughed.</p> + +<p>"So Monkey Brand's implicated, is he?" he said. "He took money from me +to settle your horse, and leaked when he was in liquor. That's the +story, is it?" He lifted his voice. "D'you hear that, Brand?"</p> + +<p>"I hear," came the little sodden voice from the waiting-room. "And I +says nothing. There's One Above'll see me right."</p> + +<p>Joses shook his curls at Silver.</p> + +<p>"Won't wash," he said. "Really it won't. What the lawyers call +collusion. You didn't know I was trained for the Bar, did you? Another +little surprise packet for you. Come, Mr. Silver, you must do a little +better than that—an old hand like you."</p> + +<p>The young man observed him with slow, admiring eyes.</p> + +<p>"Joses," he said deliberately, "you're a clever rogue."</p> + +<p>The fat man's eye became almost genial. He looked warily round, and then +came a step closer.</p> + +<p>"Ain't I?" he whispered.</p> + +<p>Silver, laughing gently, handed him his cloak.</p> + +<p>"Here it is," he said. "I'm keeping the little bit of paper that was in +the pocket."</p> + +<p>The other's pupils contracted.</p> + +<p>"What paper's that?"</p> + +<p>"The prescription of the dope mixture you handed in to Burgess and +Williams, the Brighton chemists, yesterday morning. They put their stamp +on it and the date. I've just come back from a chat with them."</p> + +<p>The fat man watched the other as a rabbit watches a weasel.</p> + +<p>"Are you going to peach?" he said.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you after the National," replied the other.</p> + +<p>Joses dropped his voice into his boots.</p> + +<p>"Make it a monkey and I'll quit," he muttered. "She's worth it," he +added cunningly.</p> + +<p>Silver looked at him.</p> + +<p>The tout came a sudden step closer.</p> + +<p>"I <i>know</i>," he whispered.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="BOOK_VI" id="BOOK_VI"></a>BOOK VI<br /> + + +MOCASSIN</h4> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XLV" id="CHAPTER_XLV"></a>CHAPTER XLV<br /> + +<span class="smcap">Aintree</span></h4> + + +<p>The Grand National is always the great event of the chasing year. This +year it was something more. As the American Ambassador in England, +speaking at the Pilgrim's Club a week before the race, said, it was an +international affair fraught with possibilities for two great peoples, +one in blood and tongue and history, whom an unhappy accident had parted +for a moment in the past.</p> + +<p>The mare indeed was a magnet. At the time that England is loud with the +voice of lambs, and the arabis in Sussex gardens begins to attract the +bees, she was drawing men to her from all the ends of the earth.</p> + +<p>They came hurrying across the seas in their thousands to see the Hope of +the Young Countries triumphant, and above all to compel fair play for +their champion.</p> + +<p>Indeed, there was an undeniable touch of defiance about the attitude of +most of them. Last year the old folks at home—God bless em!—John Bull, +the leariest of frank-spoken rogues!—had done her in.</p> + +<p>The mare had won and had been disqualified. Those were the simple facts; +and no casuistry by the cleverest of London lawyers could get away from +them.</p> + +<p>On the question of Chukkers and the Bully Boys, as the English cheap +press called them, showed themselves eminently reasonable.</p> + +<p>As they said themselves not without grimness, "Gee!—Don't we know +Chukkers?—Didn't we riz him? His father was a Frisco Chink, and his +mother a Mexican half-breed. You can tell us nothing about him we don't +know. We admit it all. Wipe it out. If she'd been ridden by the +straightest feller that ever sat in the pigskin the result'd have been +the same. Are you going to give America best in your big race? Is John +Bull a bleatin' baa-lamb?"</p> + +<p>And so <i>Hands off and no Hanky-Panky</i> was the war-chaunt of the young +American bloods whom great Cunarders vomited on to the docks at +Liverpool and P.-and-O.'s landed at Tilbury to join the Ikey's Own, who +had been on watch throughout the winter.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The National always takes place on the Friday of Aintree week.</p> + +<p>All the week special trains were running Liverpool-ward from the ends of +the British Isles. London, Glasgow, Cardiff, and Plymouth each sent +their contingents speeding north on the same engrossing errand. All day +and night people were turning out in their thousands, hanging over +bridges, lining railway embankments, to see the great engines with the +Kangaroo bound to their buffer-plates coming through, yes, and cheering +them.</p> + +<p>The Boys in the corridor trains stood at the windows with folded arms, +watched the waving crowds grimly, and winked at each other.</p> + +<p>They had a profound admiration for John Bull's capacity for roguery, and +an equally profound belief in their own ability to go one better.</p> + +<p>Last year J.B. had bested them—and they thought all the better of him +for it. This year they meant to get their own back—and a bit more.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>We are coming, Uncle Ikey, we are coming millions strong,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>For to see the haughty English don't do our Ikey wrong,</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p>they sang out of the windows with provocative enjoyment.</p> + +<p>The people waving on the embankments were in fact innocent of crime, +committed or conceived. They had no champion of their own, and with a +certain large simplicity they hailed as theirs the mare who had crossed +the seas to trample on them.</p> + +<p>Liverpool made holiday for the occasion.</p> + +<p>The Corporation feasted its American visitors, while the big ship-owners +gave a dance at the Wellington Rooms.</p> + +<p>The Adelphi Hotel was the headquarters of the Beyond-the-Seas folk, and +it was full to overflowing. In the huge dining-room, where every year +the Waterloo Cup dinner is held, there was an immense muster the night +before the race. Lord Milburn, the Prime Minister, was there, with the +Mayor of Liverpool on his left, and the American Ambassador upon his +right. One famous Ex-President of the Great Republic was present, and +many of the most distinguished citizens of the two countries; Ikey +Aaronsohnn with his eternal twinkle, was there, and Jaggers looking like +a Church of England Bishop. Chukkers alone was absent. And he was lying +low upstairs, it was said, with one of Ikey's Own at his bedside, and +another over his door, to see that no harm befell him before the great +day dawned. America might not like the great jockey, but she meant him +to ride her mare to victory.</p> + +<p>Lord Milburn, a somewhat ponderous gentleman, well-known with the Quorn, +a representative Imperialist statesman, was at his best. And if his +best was never very good, at least his references to Mocassin brought +down the house.</p> + +<p>"She is something moa than the best steeplechaser that ever looked +through a bridle-ah," he announced in his somewhat portentous way. "She +is—in my judgment—the realization of a dream. In her have met once +more the two great streams of the Anglo-Saxon race. You have every right +to be proud of hah; and so, I venture to say, have we. For we of the old +country claim our share in the mare. She comes, I say, in the last +resort—the last resort—of English thoroughbred stock. (Cheers, +Counter-cheers.) And if she wins to-morrah—as she will (cheers), 'Given +fair play'" came a voice from the back. "<i>That</i> she will get—(cheers +and boos)—the people of this country will rejoice that another edifice +has been laid to the mighty brick—ah of Anglo-Saxon fellowship on which +the hope, and I think I may say, the happiness of the world depends."</p> + +<p>The evening ended, as the Liverpool <i>Herald</i> reported, at two in the +morning, when Abe Gideon, the bark-blocks comedian, was hoisted on to +the table and sang the <i>Mocassin Song</i> to a chorus that set the water in +the docks rocking.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XLVI" id="CHAPTER_XLVI"></a>CHAPTER XLVI<br /> + +<span class="smcap">The Sefton Arms</span></h4> + + +<p>Old Mat never stopped in Liverpool for the big race.</p> + +<p>That was partly because everybody else did, and partly because he always +preferred The Sefton Arms upon the course. When his little daughter +first took to accompanying her dad to the National she used to stay the +night with a Methodist cousin of her mother's and join her father on the +course next morning.</p> + +<p>This time she refused point-blank to favour Cousin Agatha, and further +refused to argue the matter. She was going with her father to The Sefton +Arms. Mrs. Woodburn was genuinely distressed, so much so indeed that +Silver heard her hold forth for the first time in his knowledge of her +on the modern mother's favourite theme—the daughter of to-day.</p> + +<p>Old Mat gave her little sympathy.</p> + +<p>"She's said she's goin', so goin' she is," he grunted matter-of-factly. +"No argifyin's no good when she's said that. You might know that by now, +Mar."</p> + +<p>He added, to assuage his wife, that Mr. Silver was going to stop with +them at The Sefton Arms.</p> + +<p>"He's better than some," said the old lady almost vengefully.</p> + +<p>"Now then, Mar-r-r!" cried the old man, "You're gettin' a reg'lar old +woman, you are."</p> + +<p>When his wife had left the room in dudgeon:</p> + +<p>"It's silly," grunted the trainer. "'Course she wants to be on the +course. It's only in Natur. It's her hoss, and her race. She ain't goin' +to run no risks. And I don't blame her neether. There's only one way o' +seein' a thing through as I've ever know'd, and that's seein' it through +yourself."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Mrs. Woodburn's good-bye to her daughter was cold as it was wistful.</p> + +<p>At the garden-gate Boy turned and waved.</p> + +<p>"Cheer, mum!" she cried.</p> + +<p>Her mother, standing austerely on the steps of the house, did not +respond.</p> + +<p>"I shall be back on Saturday," called the girl as she climbed into the +buggy.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>That was on the Monday.</p> + +<p>On that day Boy and Albert and Billy Bluff took the young horse north, +travelling all the way in his box.</p> + +<p>At Euston it was evident something out of the way was forward. There was +hardly a crowd at the station, but expectant folk were gathered here and +there in knots and there were more police than usual about.</p> + +<p>The secret was soon out.</p> + +<p>Jaggers, with the air of the Grand Inquisitor, appeared on the platform +with his head-lad, Rushton. The trainer entered into talk with a man +whom Albert informed his mistress was a cop in plain clothes.</p> + +<p>"Place swarms with 'em," the youth whispered. "And Ikey's Own. They're +takin' no chances."</p> + +<p>In fact, Mocassin and her two stable-companions were travelling on the +same train as the Putnam horse.</p> + +<p>As Albert remarked, not without complacency:</p> + +<p>"One thing. If there's a smash we're all in it."</p> + +<p>At Aintree the crowd, which somehow always knows, had gathered to see +the crack. They didn't see much but four chestnut legs and a long tail; +but what they saw was enough to satisfy them. You could swaddle her like +a corpse from muzzle to hocks, and from withers to fetlock, but the +Queen of Kentucky's walk was not to be mistaken. And as she came out of +her box on to the platform, treading daintily, the little gathering +raised the familiar slogan that told she was betrayed.</p> + +<p>Boy let the favourite get well away before she unboxed her horse. There +was nobody about by then but a small urchin who jeered:</p> + +<p>"Say, lydy! is yon what they call a camel-leopard?"</p> + +<p>The little party had the road to themselves, and passed unheeded.</p> + +<p>The Billjim Guard were escorting the favourite to the yard, and the +crowd were escorting the Billjims.</p> + +<p>When Four-Pound-the-Second reached the yard with his three satellites +twenty minutes later, the backwash of the crowd still eddied and swirled +about the entrance.</p> + +<p>The policeman on the gate made a fuss about admitting Billy Bluff. But +the head yard-man, who knew Mat Woodburn's daughter almost as well as he +knew his own, interfered on her behalf.</p> + +<p>"He'll sleep in my horse's box," Boy explained.</p> + +<p>"Won't your horse sleep without him, Miss?" grinned the yard-man.</p> + +<p>"Not so well," answered the girl.</p> + +<p>"Oh, let him in," said the other. "Pity to spoil that horse's beauty +sleep. Might lose his looks."</p> + +<p>Boy could never bring herself to titter at the jokes of those whom it +was expedient to placate. Happily Albert was at hand to make amends, and +he, to be sure, had no qualms of conscience.</p> + +<p>The little procession entered, Billy Bluff at the heels of the great +horse, striking fire in the dusk from the cobbled yard.</p> + +<p>"He's to look after Chukkers, I suppose," said the yard-man grimly, +pleased at his own generosity, well satisfied with his wit, and fairly +so with Albert's tribute to it.</p> + +<p>"He's to look after my horse," said Boy resolutely.</p> + +<p>"He looks he could look after himself, Miss," replied the witty +yard-man.</p> + +<p>"So he can, sir, with you to help him," said the swift and tactful +Albert.</p> + +<p>The yard-man, who could tell you stories of Boomerang's National, and +Cannibal's victory, that not even Monkey Brand could surpass, knew of +old the feeling between Putnam's and the Dewhurst stable, and had placed +the boxes of the two horses far apart.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>All through the week the excitement grew.</p> + +<p>The Sefton Arms was seething; the bar a slowly heaving mass of +racing-men, jockeys, touts, habitués.</p> + +<p>Once or twice there were rows between Ikey's Own—the Yankee doodlers, +as the local wits called them—and the English silver-ring bookies; and +the cause of the quarrels was invariably the same—the treatment of the +mare at last year's National.</p> + +<p>Throughout the week Boy went her quiet, strenuous way, unconscious of +the commotion about her, or careless of it.</p> + +<p>Jim Silver escorted her to and from the yard. Most people knew Old +Mat's daughter and respected her; and those who did not, respected the +grave-faced young giant who was her constant attendant.</p> + +<p>When the pair passed swiftly through the bar, an observer would have +noticed that a hush fell on the drinkers, accompanied by surreptitious +elbow-nudgings and significant winks.</p> + +<p>It was clear that the young couple were of secret interest to the dingy +crowd. And in fact there were rumours afloat about them—sensational +stories not a few about what they stood to win in love upon the race.</p> + +<p>Monkey Brand and Joses were always drinking together in the bar as +Silver walked through. Once he passed quite close to them. The little +jockey's glassy eye rested meaninglessly on the young man's face and +wandered away. When the other had moved on, he dropped his eyelid and +muttered to his pal:</p> + +<p>"Wants the —— kybosh puttin' on him. Good as called me a copper's +nark."</p> + +<p>"Hundred thousand in the pot," grinned the fat man. "And a dainty bit o' +white meat. I don't blame him." He licked his lips.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>There were few more familiar figures at the bar of The Sefton Arms at +National time than that of Monkey Brand, and this year few more pathetic +ones.</p> + +<p>It was soon bruited abroad that Old Mat and his head-lad had parted +after more years of association than many cared to recall. And it was +clear that the little man felt the rupture. He wandered morosely through +the crowd in the train of his fat familiar like a lost soul outside the +gates of Paradise. Usually a merry sprite, the life and soul of every +group he joined, he was under the weather, as the saying went, and what +was still more remarkable he showed it.</p> + +<p>Everybody was aware of the facts, though nobody knew the story.</p> + +<p>The Duke, who was genuinely fond of the little jockey, and full of +vulgar curiosity, coming upon him two nights before the race, stopped +him.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry to hear you and Mr. Woodburn have parted after all these +years, Brand," he said in his gruff way.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, your Grace," said the little jockey, pinching his lips.</p> + +<p>The Duke waited. Nothing happened, but Monkey poked his chin in the air, +and swallowed.</p> + +<p>"I thought you were set for life," continued the Duke slowly.</p> + +<p>"I thought so, too, your Grace," answered the jockey. "But the human +'eart's a funny affair—very funny, as the sayin' is."</p> + +<p>Long ago he had acquired the trick of moralizing from his old master.</p> + +<p>"What's the trouble, then?" grunted the Duke.</p> + +<p>He was greatly curious and honestly concerned.</p> + +<p>"Thought I were sellin' him," muttered Monkey.</p> + +<p>The Duke bent shaggy brows upon the little man.</p> + +<p>"Were you?" he asked.</p> + +<p>For a moment the old merry Monkey rose from the dead and twinkled. Then +he stiffened like a dead man, touched his hat, and turned away.</p> + +<p>The Duke clung to him.</p> + +<p>He, too, had heard a story, and wished to know the rights and wrongs of +it.</p> + +<p>"Well, well," he said. "We must all hope the Putnam horse wins—for Mr. +Silver's sake. Eh, what?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, your Grace," replied the uncommunicative Monkey.</p> + +<p>The night before the race the Duke, still hunting the trail tenaciously, +stumbled, according to his own account, on Old Mat, and reported the +substance of his interview with Monkey in that ingenuous way of his, +half simple, half brutal, and all with an astonishing <i>savoir-faire</i> you +would never have given him credit for.</p> + +<p>"One thing," he ended, "he ain't blackguardin' you."</p> + +<p>Mat seemed lost in memories.</p> + +<p>"I wep' a tear. I did reely," he said at last. Then he shook a sorrowful +head. "I ain't one o' yer whitewings meself," he said. "Not by no means. +But he shock me, Monkey do. He does reely." He dabbed his eye. "Rogues +and rasqueals, yer Grace," he said. "All very well. But there is a +limit, as the Psalmist very proply remarked."</p> + +<p>The Duke turned to go, his curiosity still unsatisfied.</p> + +<p>"Where's Boy?" he asked gruffly. "I've seen nothing of her this time."</p> + +<p>"She's kep' busy, your Grace—nursin' the baby."</p> + +<p>"How is he?"</p> + +<p>"Keeps a-crowin'," said the old man, "from all I hears of it."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XLVII" id="CHAPTER_XLVII"></a>CHAPTER XLVII<br /> + +<span class="smcap">On the Course</span></h4> + + +<p>Next morning was gray with gleams of sun: an ideal day, old hands said, +for the great race of the year.</p> + +<p>Mat found his way to the Paddock early and alone.</p> + +<p>At Aintree everything is known about the notables by everybody, and +there were few more familiar figures than that of the old man with the +broad shoulders, the pink face, and the difficulty in drawing breath.</p> + +<p>It was twenty odd years since Cannibal had won the big race for him; and +this year it was known that he had only come up to see the sport. True +he had a horse running, down on the card as Four-Pound-the-Second, brown +gelding, five years old, green jacket and cap, ten stone; but he was an +any-price outsider, only entered because for something like fifty years +there had never been a National in which a Putnam horse had not played a +part. And rumour had it that Four-Pound was a rum un even for Putnam's.</p> + +<p>As Mat entered the Paddock, he was looking round him—for his missing +daughter, observers said.</p> + +<p>Jaggers and Ikey Aaronsohnn marked him from afar and told off a couple +of the Boys to track him from a respectful distance.</p> + +<p>The old man's familiar figure, his queer clothes, and reputation as a +character, drew others toward him. He lilted heavily across the Paddock +with a word to one, a nod to another, a wink for a third, talking all +the time and breathing like a grampus, with a little crowd of tittering +nondescripts swirling in his wake and hanging on his words.</p> + +<p>"Don't 'ave nothin' to do wi' me. That's my adwice to you. I'm Old Mat. +You oughter know that by this. No, I ain't goin' to walk round the +course this year. As I says, the course don't change, but I does. If the +course wants me to see it, it must walk round me. I've done the proper +thing be the course this sixty year. Now it's the course's turn. <i>Good +morning, Mr. Jaggers</i>. Yes, I see him, and he see me—only he look the +other way. Pretty little thing, ain't he? Reminds me of that foreign +chap went on the religious ramp in Italy. I seen his picture at Mr. +Haggard's. Savierollher, wasn't it? They burnt him; and I don't blame +'em. He was Jaggers's father I <i>'ave</i> 'eard. Only you mustn't 'and it +on, else you might get me into trouble."</p> + +<p>He crossed the course, looked at the water opposite the Grand Stand, and +examined the first fence lugubriously.</p> + +<p>"Time was I could ha' hop it off one foot," he said. "Something's +'appened. Must 'ave."</p> + +<p>Then he returned to the Paddock, passing a bookie with uplifted hand of +protest.</p> + +<p>"Get away from me, Satan," he said. "Don't tempt an old man what's never +fell yet."</p> + +<p>"I know all about that, Mr. Woodburn," grinned the bookie.</p> + +<p>"I got my principles same as them as 'asn't," continued the old man, +marching firmly on. "You go and tell that to the Three J's, Mr. +Buckland. There they are be the Grand Stand. No, when I gets back to +Mar there'll be nothin' to show her only a blank bettin' book." He +stopped quite suddenly and dropped his voice to a whisper: "Anything +doin', Mr. Buckland?"</p> + +<p>His little following roared.</p> + +<p>"Favourite fours. Nothing else wanted, Mr. Woodburn," said the amused +man. "It's just the day for the mare."</p> + +<p>"Fours," said the old man. "Price shorter nor ever I remember it since +Cloister's year. It's a cert. for the Three J's. What about my little +ride-a-cock-horse, Mr. Buckland?"</p> + +<p>The bookmaker referred to his card.</p> + +<p>"Four-Pound-the-Second," he said. "Give you forties."</p> + +<p>"Forties!" guffawed Old Mat. "A young giraffe like him, dropped this +spring in the Sarah desert under a cocoanut shy. Four <i>hundred</i> and +forties I thought you was goin' to say. 'Ark to him!" He appealed to the +delighted crowd. "Offers me forties against my pantomime colt, and ain't +ashamed of himself. I'd ha' left him at home in the menadgeree along o' +the two-'eaded calf and the boy with blue hair if I'd known."</p> + +<p>"He's a powerful great horse, Mr. Woodburn," smiled the bookie.</p> + +<p>"Hoss!" cried the outraged old man. "'Ave you seen him? He ain't a hoss +at all. He's a he-goat. Only I've shave the top of him to took you all +in. He's comin' on at the 'alls to-night after the race. Goin' to sit on +a stool and sing <i>The Wop 'em Opossum</i>, specially composed by me and Mar +for this occasion only."</p> + +<p>He lilted on his way.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>By noon the Paddock was filling, and the Carriage Enclosure becoming +packed.</p> + +<p>People began to blacken the railway embankment, to gather in knots all +round the course at likely places, to line the Canal.</p> + +<p>In the crowd you could hear the dialects of every county in England +mingling with accents of the young countries beyond the seas.</p> + +<p>At noon the Duke and his party crossed the Paddock.</p> + +<p>"You won't join us, Mat?" he called. "I've got a saloon on the +Embankment."</p> + +<p>"No, sir, thank you," said the old man. "Mat's corner in the Grand +Stand'll find me at home as usual come three o'clock."</p> + +<p>The Duke paused. He was still hunting the trail.</p> + +<p>"If you see Boy before the race, tell her we'll be glad if she cares to +join us."</p> + +<p>The trainer shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Thank you kindly, your Grace. She always goes to the Stand by the Canal +Turn when Chukkers is riding."</p> + +<p>There was a chuckle from the bystanders.</p> + +<p>"He's ridin' this time' all right, from all I hear," said the Duke +grimly.</p> + +<p>"You're right, sir," answered the old man. "Last night he was countin' +his dead in his sleep. The policeman what was over his door to see no +lady kidnap him for his looks heard him and tell me."</p> + +<p>The jockey, who was passing at the moment, stopped.</p> + +<p>"Say it agin," he cried fiercely.</p> + +<p>The old trainer was face to face with one of the only two men in the +world to whom he felt unkindly.</p> + +<p>"Ain't once enough, then?" he asked tartly.</p> + +<p>The jockey walked on his way.</p> + +<p>"Ah, you're an old man, Mr. Woodburn," he called back. "<i>You</i> take +advantage."</p> + +<p>"I may be old, but I am <i>white</i>," called the old man after him, his blue +eye lighting.</p> + +<p>"Oh, come, come!" cried the Duke, delighted, as he hurried after his +party. "Where's Mrs. Woodburn?"</p> + +<p>Chukkers joined the two J's, who were hobnobbing with some of Ikey's Own +under the Grand Stand.</p> + +<p>Monkey Brand and Joses stood together on the outskirts of the group.</p> + +<p>Jaggers, austere as the Mogul Emperor, approached the tout.</p> + +<p>"You're a monkey down, Joses," he said, cold and quiet. "The Putnam +horse is starting."</p> + +<p>The other smiled.</p> + +<p>"He's starting, sir," he said. "But he's not winning."</p> + +<p>Jaggers blinked at him.</p> + +<p>"What d'you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I mean the race isn't lost yet, and mayn't be—even if the mare don't +win."</p> + +<p>He moved away, and Monkey followed him.</p> + +<p>Jaggers joined his colleagues.</p> + +<p>"What did he say?" asked Ikey in his eager yet wary way.</p> + +<p>The trainer told him.</p> + +<p>"Thinks he knows something," muttered the little Levantine, his brown +face thoughtful.</p> + +<p>"Kiddin' he do," grunted Chukkers, sucking his charm.</p> + +<p>Ikey looked after the retreating fat man.</p> + +<p>"He's collared Monkey Brand anyway," he said.</p> + +<p>"If Monkey ain't collared him," retorted the jockey.</p> + +<p>The moods of the three men were various and characteristic: Jaggers glum +and uncertain, Ikey confident, Chukkers grim.</p> + +<p>"Who's riding the Putnam horse?" asked Ikey.</p> + +<p>"Albert Edward," Jaggers replied.</p> + +<p>Chukkers removed his charm from his mouth.</p> + +<p>"I ain't afraid o' him," he said. "He's never rode this course afore. +It'll size him up."</p> + +<p>"What's the price o' Four-Pound?" asked Ikey.</p> + +<p>"Forties," answered Chukkers, biting home.</p> + +<p>The little Levantine was surprised, as those Simian eyebrows of his +revealed.</p> + +<p>"Forties!" he said. "I thought he was a hundred to one."</p> + +<p>"So he were a week since," answered Chukkers surlily. "Silver's been +plankin' the dollars on."</p> + +<p>"Ah, that ain't all," said Jaggers gloomily. "The Ring knows something. +Here, Rushton, go and see what they're layin' Four-Pound."</p> + +<p>The head-lad went and returned immediately.</p> + +<p>"Thirties offered, sir. No takers."</p> + +<p>Jaggers shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I don't like it," he said.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>All morning, carriages, coaches, silent-moving motorcars, char-à-bancs +with rowdy parties, moke-carts, people on bicycles and afoot, streamed +out of Liverpool.</p> + +<p>By one o'clock people were taking their places in the Grand Stand. +Everywhere America was in the ascendant, good-humoured, a thought +aggressive. Phalanxes of the Boys linked arm to arm were sweeping up +and down the course, singing with genial turbulence</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;"><i>Hands off and no hanky-panky.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p>To an impartial onlooker the attitude of the two great peoples toward +each other was an interesting study. Both were wary, ironical, +provocative, and perfect tempered. They were as brothers, rivals in the +arena, who having known each other from nursery days, cherish no +romantic and sentimental regard for each other, are aware of each +other's tricks, and watchful for them while still maintaining a certain +measure of mutual respect and even affection.</p> + +<p>When the American crowd surged up and down the course roaring +magnificently,</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>The star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave,</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p>the counter-marching Englishmen met them with the challenging,</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;"><i>The land of Hope and Glory</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;"><i>The Mother of the Free.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p>With any other peoples rioting and bloodshed would have ensued. Here, +apart from an occasional cut-and-dry battle between two enthusiastic +individuals in the fringes of the crowd, there was never any need for +police interference.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>There were two flat races before the National. The horses were gathering +for the first when Albert in his shirt sleeves bustled across the +Paddock.</p> + +<p>A whistle stopped him and he turned.</p> + +<p>"'Ullo, Mr. Brand!"</p> + +<p>"Where are you off to?"</p> + +<p>"I'm goin' to dress now."</p> + +<p>"You're early."</p> + +<p>"First race is starting."</p> + +<p>"How's the horse?"</p> + +<p>"Keeps a-lingerin' along."</p> + +<p>"Who's with him?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Silver."</p> + +<p>The fat man chimed in:</p> + +<p>"Where's the lady, then?"</p> + +<p>Albert looked blank.</p> + +<p>"I ain't seen her," he said. "Believe she's walking round the course."</p> + +<p>Joses laughed.</p> + +<p>"I should have thought you'd have been the one to walk round the +course," he said.</p> + +<p>"I been," replied the lad keenly.</p> + +<p>"And what d'you think of it?" asked Monkey.</p> + +<p>The youth rubbed his stomach with the most delicate consideration.</p> + +<p>"Pore Albert," he said. "That's what I think. They're a yard through +some of 'em. You clears 'em clean or—it's amen, so be it, good-bye to +the totties, and no flowers by request."</p> + +<p>He bustled on his way.</p> + +<p>Monkey nudged his mate.</p> + +<p>"Keeps it up," he muttered.</p> + +<p>"Proper," the other answered.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The second race was run and won. Two o'clock came and went. The jockeys +began to emerge from the dressing-room under the Grand Stand. Monkey +Brand and Joses watched the door.</p> + +<p>"Where's green then?" muttered the tout, as the expected failed to show.</p> + +<p>"'Ush!" said Monkey at his elbow.</p> + +<p>The fat man turned.</p> + +<p>At the far side of the Paddock, by the gate, the looked-for jockey had +appeared out of nowhere.</p> + +<p>The green of his cap betrayed him, and the fact that old Mat was in +close conversation with him.</p> + +<p>He wore a long racing-coat, and his collar was turned up. Indeed, apart +from his peaked cap drawn down over his eyes and his spurs, little but +coat was to be seen of him.</p> + +<p>"Where did he spring from?" asked Joses, and began to move toward the +jockey.</p> + +<p>His companion stayed him suddenly.</p> + +<p>Billy Bluff, who had evaded the police, and dodged his way into the +Paddock, raced up to the jockey and began to squirm about him, half +triumphant, half ashamed.</p> + +<p>The fat man stopped dead and stared, with his bulging eyes.</p> + +<p>"Straight!" he cried, and smote his hands together.</p> + +<p>The jockey cut at the dog with his whip, and then the police came up and +hunted him back into the road.</p> + +<p>At the moment the band struck up the National Anthem, and the Knowsley +party, including the King, the American Ambassador, and Lord Milburn, +crossed the Paddock swiftly toward Lord Derby's box.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the strains of the band were drowned by an immense roar of +cheering.</p> + +<p>Mocassin was being led into the Paddock.</p> + +<p>Nothing could be seen of her. Ikey's Own had formed a close-linked +phalanx about her. No Englishman might penetrate that jealous barrier or +help to form it. Within its sacred circle the mare was being stripped +and saddled.</p> + +<p>Then there came another roar.</p> + +<p>Chukkers was up in the star-spangled jacket.</p> + +<p>The famous jockey sat above the heads of the crowd, and indulged in the +little piece of swagger he always permitted himself. Very deliberately +he tied the riband of his cap over the peak while the eyes of thousands +watched him. As he did so the crowd about him stirred and parted. A girl +passed through. It was the American Ambassador's daughter. She handed +the jockey a tricolour cockade, which he fixed gallantly in front of his +cap. It was clear that he was in the best of humours, for he exchanged +chaff with his admirers, adding a word to Jaggers as he gathered his +reins.</p> + +<p>Settling in the saddle, he squeezed the mare.</p> + +<p>She reared a little as though to gratify the desire of those at the back +for a peep at her.</p> + +<p>As she left the Paddock and entered the course, the people rose to her +<i>en masse</i>. Storms of cheers greeted her and went bellowing round the +course. The Canal tossed them back to the Grand Stand, and the +Embankment was white with waving handkerchiefs.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;"><i>Mocassin! Mocassin! Mocassin!</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p>All eyes were on the mare, and the great brown horse, in the far corner +of the Paddock, was stripped, and his jockey astride, before half a +dozen people were aware of his presence.</p> + +<p>By the time Jaggers and Ikey had observed him, he was on the move.</p> + +<p>The two J's, Monkey Brand and Joses, crossed toward him, but there was +no getting near that tumultuous earth-shaker in brown. Jim Silver was at +his head, and, strong as the young man was, he had all his work cut out +to hold the horse as he bounced across the Paddock, scattering his crowd +with far-reaching heels.</p> + +<p>"'Ware horse!" rose the cry.</p> + +<p>"Give him room!"</p> + +<p>"Look out for his heels!"</p> + +<p>"Steady the beauty!"</p> + +<p>Plunging across the Paddock, to the disturbance of everybody but the +little jockey with the fair hair, who swung to his motions as a flower, +fast in earth, swings to the wind, he tore out of the Paddock amid the +jeers and laughter of some and the curses of others.</p> + +<p>"Smart!" said Joses.</p> + +<p>"My eye!" answered Monkey Brand.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Jim Silver, panting after his run, joined Old Mat.</p> + +<p>The two made toward the Grand Stand.</p> + +<p>In front of them a middle-aged man, soberly dressed, and a tall girl +were walking.</p> + +<p>"That's the American Ambassador," muttered the old man as they passed. +"Come with Lord Derby's party. Great scholar, they say. That's his +daughter."</p> + +<p>The tall Ambassador with the stoop paused to let the other couple go by.</p> + +<p>Then he nodded at the young man's back.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Silver," he murmured in his daughter's ear. "And the old +gentleman's <i>her</i> father."</p> + +<p>The girl was alert at once. She, too, had heard the tales.</p> + +<p>"Is it?" she cried. "Where's she?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," the other answered.</p> + +<p>"I <i>hope</i> they win," said the girl—"in some ways."</p> + +<p>Her father smiled.</p> + +<p>"You're no American," he scoffed. "You're a woman. That's all you are."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XLVIII" id="CHAPTER_XLVIII"></a>CHAPTER XLVIII<br /> + +<span class="smcap">The Star-Spangled Jacket</span></h4> + + +<p>As the two men took their places, the parade in front of the Grand Stand +was in full swing.</p> + +<p>There was a big field: some thirty starters in all.</p> + +<p>The favourite, as the top weight, led them by at a walk.</p> + +<p>She was quite at her ease, yet on fire as always, snatching at her bit +in characteristic style. Chukkers rode her with long and easy rein, as +though to show he trusted her. As she came by, the Grand Stand began to +sing with one voice:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>The maid of our mountains—</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Mocassin's her name!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The speed of the panther;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>The heart of the flame;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The Belle of the Blue Ridge,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>The hope of the plain,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The Queen of Kentucky,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>O, lift her again—</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Chanted thus by tens of thousands of voices, singing round the course +and up into the heavens, and culminating in the roaring slogan—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>Mocassin! Mocassin! Mocassin!</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p>the simple song became for the moment clothed in vicarious majesty.</p> + +<p>Jim Silver felt the thrill of it, as did his companion.</p> + +<p>"Mar'd like that," said Old Mat sentimentally. "She's same as me. She +likes hymns."</p> + +<p>The object of the enthusiasm seemed unconscious of it.</p> + +<p>She came by at that swift pattering walk of hers—like a girl going +marketing as her lovers said—amid the comments of her admirers.</p> + +<p>"She's all right, sure!"</p> + +<p>"Don't she nip along?"</p> + +<p>"He looks grim, Chukkers do."</p> + +<p>"Yes; he's for it this time."</p> + +<p>"They've injected her—American style."</p> + +<p>"Never!"</p> + +<p>"They have, my son. Trust Jaggers. Can't leave it to Nature. Must always +go one better."</p> + +<p>"Ikey's got two other horses in."</p> + +<p>"Which?"</p> + +<p>"There's old Jackaroo—in the purple and gold, Rushton riding."</p> + +<p>"Which is the second Dewhurst horse?"</p> + +<p>"This in the canary. Flibberty-gibbet. Little Boy Braithwaite."</p> + +<p>"He's only a nipper."</p> + +<p>"He can ride, though."</p> + +<p>"They're to nurse the crack through the squeeze."</p> + +<p>"She'll want nursing."</p> + +<p>"She's all right if she stands up till Beecher's Brook."</p> + +<p>"She'll stand up. Trust Chukkers."</p> + +<p>"He's got nothing to beat."</p> + +<p>"Only Moonlighter."</p> + +<p>"Which <i>is</i> the Irish horse?"</p> + +<p>"The gray there. Cerise and white."</p> + +<p>"Flashy thing."</p> + +<p>"Yes. He'll give no trouble though. Three mile and a half is his limit."</p> + +<p>"Here's Gee-Woa, the Yorkshireman."</p> + +<p>"Looks an old-fashioned sort."</p> + +<p>"He can jump a haystack and stay all day; but he can't get a move on."</p> + +<p>"If there's grief enough he might get home, though."</p> + +<p>"There's Kingfisher. The West-country crack. Bay and two white ducks."</p> + +<p>Last but one came Four-Pound-the-Second with his little fair jockey up. +The horse was so big, and the jockey so small, that a laugh went up as +the pair came by.</p> + +<p>"What's this in green, then?"</p> + +<p>"Old Mat's horse. Four-Pound-the-Second. Ten stun."</p> + +<p>"Anything known of him?"</p> + +<p>"Won a small race at Lingfield."</p> + +<p>"Who's riding?"</p> + +<p>"One o' the Putnam lads. Carries his prayer-book in his pocket. Mar +makes 'em—for luck!"</p> + +<p>"He can foot it."</p> + +<p>"I'd like to see a walkin'-race between that mare and the big un. What's +his price?" He leaned over to the ring below and asked.</p> + +<p>"Twenties," came the answer.</p> + +<p>Jaggers heard and nudged Ikey.</p> + +<p>The Putnam horse marched by, blowing his nose, and in front of the Grand +Stand gave a playful little buck as much as to say: "I would if I could, +but I won't."</p> + +<p>Then Chukkers swung round and led the horses back to the +starting-point.</p> + +<p>"Only one thing I wish," muttered Old Mat in his companion's ear. "I +wish there'd been rain in the night. Twelve-stun-three'd steady Miss +Mustang through the dirt."</p> + +<p>"Our horse has got a little bit in hand," replied the young man.</p> + +<p>"You're right, sir," answered the other.</p> + +<p>The gossip came and went about the pair. Neither heard nor indeed heeded +it. The old man was easy, almost nonchalant; the young man quiet and +self-contained.</p> + +<p>The horses drew up to the right, their backs to the Grand Stand, a long, +swaying line of silken jackets shimmering in the sun.</p> + +<p>Old Mat's face became quietly radiant.</p> + +<p>"Pretty, ain't it?" he said. "Like a bed o' toolups swaying in the wind. +I wish Mar could see that. Worst o' principles, they cuts you off so +much."</p> + +<p>He raised his glasses.</p> + +<p>"Where's Chukkers? Oh, I see. In the middle, and his buffer-hosses not +too fur on eether side of him. That's lucky for Chukkers. One thing, my +little baa-lamb'll take a bit o' knockin' out."</p> + +<p>"Where is he?" asked Silver.</p> + +<p>"Away on the right there," answered the old man. "Doin' a cake-walk on +the next hoss's toes."</p> + +<p>There was very little trouble at the post. The starter got his field +away well together at the first drop of the flag.</p> + +<p>Only one was left, and that was green.</p> + +<p>The great horse who had been sparring with the air as the flag fell came +down from aloft and got going a long six lengths behind the field.</p> + +<p>Neither he nor his rider seemed the least concerned.</p> + +<p>"That's my little beauty," muttered Old Mat. "He'll start his own time, +he will. Maybe to-day; maybe to-morrow; maybe not at all. One thing, +though: he <i>has</i> started."</p> + +<p>The brown horse was pulling out to the right to lie on the outside.</p> + +<p>The old trainer nodded approvingly.</p> + +<p>"That's right, my boy," he said. "You let 'em rattle 'emselves to bits, +while you lays easy behind. There'll be plenty o' room in front in a +moment or two."</p> + +<p>An old hand in a white top-hat just in front turned round.</p> + +<p>"That lad o' yours rides cunning, Mr. Woodburn," he said.</p> + +<p>"He's a fair card, he is," replied the old man enigmatically.</p> + +<p>"Was it deliberate?" asked an ingenious youth.</p> + +<p>"Who shall say, my son?" replied the old trainer. "Only the grass-'opper +what walketh the tiles by night—same as the Psalmist says."</p> + +<p>The scramble and scrimmage at the first few fences resulted in plenty of +grief. Jockeys were rising from the ground and running off the course, +and loose horses were pursuing their perilous way alone.</p> + +<p>Behind the first flight, in the centre of the course, showed conspicuous +the Star-spangled Jacket of the favourite.</p> + +<p>Chukkers, too, was taking his time, running no risks, his eyes +everywhere, calculating his chances, fending off dangers as they loomed +up on him one after the other. He was drawing in to the rails on his +left flank for security from cannoning horses.</p> + +<p>The first few fences behind him, the danger of a knock-out would be +greatly lessened. Till then it was most grave. Chukkers was aware of it; +so were the tens of thousands watching; so were his stable-mates.</p> + +<p>As Chukkers crossed to the rails Jackaroo, who lay in front on the +inside, drew away to let the favourite up under his lee. +Flibberty-gibbet, on the other hand, the second Dewhurst horse, had been +bumped at the first fence, and pecked heavily on landing. Little Boy +Braithwaite in the canary jacket had been unshipped, and was scrambling +about on his horse's neck. He lay now a distance behind. Chukkers was +signalling furiously with his elbow for the boy to come up on his right; +and he had cause.</p> + +<p>For Kingfisher, the West-country horse, riderless and with trailing +reins, was careering alongside him like a rudderless ship in full sail.</p> + +<p>For two fences the loose horse and the favourite rose side by side; and +the watchers held their breath.</p> + +<p>Then the bay began to close in.</p> + +<p>Chukkers turned and screamed over his shoulder. Rushton on Jackaroo +still two lengths in front looked round and saw he could do nothing.</p> + +<p>Little Boy Braithwaite, who had at last recovered his seat, came up like +thunder on the quarters of the mare. The lad drove the filly at the +loose horse and rammed him in the flank.</p> + +<p>A groan went up from the assembled thousands.</p> + +<p>"Good boy!" roared the Americans.</p> + +<p>"Dead boy, ye mean," muttered Old Mat. "He's got it."</p> + +<p>Horse and boy went down together in headlong ruin. Flibberty-gibbet rose +with difficulty and limped away with broken leg and nodding head. The +boy rolled over on his face and lay still under the heavens, his canary +jacket like a blob of mustard on the green.</p> + +<p>The women in the crowd caught their breath.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he's done," muttered Mat, "Saved the Three J's a quarter of a +million, though."</p> + +<p>"But she's through," commented Silver.</p> + +<p>"Don't you believe it," grumbled the old man.</p> + +<p>The sacrifice, indeed, seemed to have been in vain. Kingfisher staggered +under the shock, recovered, and came sailing up once more, as it might +have been deliberately, alongside the mare.</p> + +<p>Chukkers leaned far out and slashed the oncoming bay across the face; +and the crowds on the Embankment and in the saloon-carriages on the +railway heard distinctly the swish-swish of the falling whip.</p> + +<p>A groan of satisfaction went up from the taut onlookers. Chukkers's +action had cleared him. Indeed he had killed two birds with one stone, +and nearly a third. Kingfisher shied away over the course and crossed +the path of Gee-Woa, who was going steady on the right. Both horses went +down. Surging along behind the Yorkshireman, calm and unconcerned by the +flurry and rush and confusion in front, came a great brown horse, the +last of the galloping rout. He flew the ruin of men and horses broadcast +before him on the grass, bounced twice, as Old Mat said, and cleared the +fence in front with a foot to spare.</p> + +<p>"Double!" roared the crowd, applauding horse and horseman alike.</p> + +<p>Jim Silver sighed.</p> + +<p>"Nearly bounced you, Mr. Woodburn," said the White Hat in front. "That +lad of yours can ride."</p> + +<p>"Bounce is the boy," answered the old man. "Nothing like it. Now there's +more room."</p> + +<p>"Where's Miss Woodburn?" asked the garrulous White Hat.</p> + +<p>"In heaven, my lord, I 'opes," answered the other, wiping his eye.</p> + +<p>The old gentleman looked foolish and made a face.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear. I'm sorry. I hadn't heard."</p> + +<p>"No 'arm done, sir," replied the trainer gently. "These things will +'appen. Seems we're most of us mortal when our time comes." He adjusted +his glasses. "Yes. Mare's through now. Layin' down to it nice."</p> + +<p>Indeed, the troubles of the favourite were over for the present. Either +Jackaroo was coming back to her, or she was coming up with the old +horse. The star-spangled jacket and the purple and gold were together, +the mare lying between the rails and her stable-companion.</p> + +<p>As the field swung left-handed and passed parallel to the Grand Stand on +the far side of the course, the light-weights were still well together +in front and bunched like a covey of partridges. Then came the favourite +and her stable-companion, rising fence for fence; after them a chain of +stragglers; and bringing up the rear, rollicking along with his head in +his chest, revelling in his work, the twenty-to-one outsider.</p> + +<p>"So far so good," said Mat, "as the man said when he was 'alf-way +through cuttin' his throat."</p> + +<p>The American contingent breathed afresh, and the bookies were looking +glum. Once over Beecher's Brook the first time round, with half the +field down, the chance of a knock-out reduced, and Gee-Woa and +Kingfisher grazing peacefully under the Embankment, the favourite's +chances had greatly increased.</p> + +<p>True, the gray Moonlighter in the cerise and white was in the lead and +going like a snowstorm; but not a man among the tens of thousands on the +course who did not know that four miles and a half was a mile too much +for the Irishman.</p> + +<p>"What price the favourite?" roared the Boys.</p> + +<p>"Threes," said the bookies, and gave them grudgingly.</p> + +<p>"They're settlin' down to it now," muttered Old Mat. "Favourite's goin' +strong. Gallops like a engine, don't she? I like to see her."</p> + +<p>Those who were watching through their glasses marked that a fence before +the Canal Turn the star-spangled jacket and the purple and gold seemed +to be taking council together.</p> + +<p>"Goin' to turn on the tap now, you'll see," said the old man.</p> + +<p>He was right.</p> + +<p>Chukkers, indeed, never varied the way he rode his races on the mare. In +truth, part of his greatness as a jockey lay in the fact that he adapted +his methods to his horse. Very early in his connection with Mocassin he +had discovered the unfailing way to make the most of her. It was said of +him that he always won his victories on her in the first half-mile. That +was an exaggeration; but it was the fact that he invariably sat down to +race at a time when other jockeys were just settling in their saddles. +At Liverpool he always began to ride the mare after Valentine's Brook +first time round, and had beaten his field and won his race long before +he began the second lap.</p> + +<p>As it chanced, too, the mare's fiery spirit suited exactly the daring +temperament of the great horseman. The invincible couple waited behind +till the ranks began to thin and then came through with the hurricane +rush that had become famous. A consummate judge of pace, sure of +himself, sure of his mount, Chukkers never feared to wait in front; and +the mare, indeed, was never happy elsewhere. Once established in the +pride of place, the fret and fever left her, she settled down to gallop +and jump, and jump and gallop, steady as the Gulf Stream, strong as a +spring-tide, till she had pounded her field to pieces.</p> + +<p>The thousands waiting for the Mocassin rush were not disappointed.</p> + +<p>The turn for home once made, and Valentine's Brook with its fatal drop +left behind, the mare and her stable-mate came away like arrows from the +bow.</p> + +<p>She lay on the rails, her guardian angel hard on her right.</p> + +<p>Jackaroo might be old, but he was still as good a two-miler as any in +England.</p> + +<p>The pair caught their horses one after one and left them standing; and +the roar of the multitude was like that of the sea as the defeated host +melted away behind.</p> + +<p>At last only the Irish horse refused to give place to the importunate +pair. Twice they challenged, and twice the gray shook them off. They +came again; and for a while the star-spangled jacket, the purple and +gold, the cerise and white, rose at their fences like one.</p> + +<p>The Irish division were in screaming ecstasies.</p> + +<p>Then the roar of New England, overwhelming all else, told that the mare +was making good.</p> + +<p>Moonlighter's jockey saw he was beaten for the moment at least and took +a pull.</p> + +<p>As Mocassin's swift bobbing head swung round the corner on to the +straight, she was alone save for her stable-companion, and his work was +done.</p> + +<p>"He's seen her through," muttered Old Mat. "Now he can go home to bed."</p> + +<p>Indeed, as Jackaroo sprawled down the straight, still hanging to the +quarters of the mare, he looked like a towel-rail on which wet clothes +had been hung, and Rushton had ceased to ride.</p> + +<p>The mare, fresh as the old horse was failing, came along in front of the +Grand Stand, clipping the grass with that swift, rhythmical stroke of +hers and little fretful snatch at the reins, neat and swift and strong +as a startled deer.</p> + +<p>Chukkers sat still and absorbed as a cat waiting over a mouse's hole.</p> + +<p>All eyes were on him. Nothing else was seen. His race was won. Last +year's defeat had been avenged. America had made good. A roar as of an +avalanche boomed and billowed about him. The thousands on the stands +yelled, stamped and cooeyed.</p> + +<p>"Hail, Columbia!" bellowed the triumphant Boys.</p> + +<p>"Stand down, England!"</p> + +<p>"What price the Yankee-doodlers?"</p> + +<p>"Who gives the Mustang best?"</p> + +<p>In that tumult of sound, individual voices were lost. The yells of the +bookies were indistinguishable. Men saw things through a mist, and more +than one woman fainted.</p> + +<p>Then through the terrific boom came the discordant blare of a megaphone, +faint at first but swiftly overbearing the noise of the tempest.</p> + +<p>"Watch it, ye ——!" it screamed. "He's catchin' ye!"</p> + +<p>It was the voice of Jaggers.</p> + +<p>The thousands heard and hushed. They recognised the voice and the note +of terror in it.</p> + +<p>Chukkers heard, too, turned, and had a glimpse of a green jacket surging +up wide on his right.</p> + +<p>There was the sound of a soughing wind as the crowd drew its breath.</p> + +<p>What was this great owl-like enemy swooping up out of nowhere?</p> + +<p>Chukkers, his head on his shoulders, took the situation in.</p> + +<p>What he saw he didn't like.</p> + +<p>The mare was going strong beneath him, but the brown horse on his +quarter was only beginning: so much his expert eye told him at a glance. +Four-Pound-the-Second was coming along like a cataract, easy as an eagle +in flight; his great buffeting shoulders were sprayed with foam, his +gaping nostrils drinking in oceans of air and spouting them out again +with the rhythmical regularity of a steam-pump; and his little jockey +sat on his back still as a mouse—a pale face, a gleam of fair hair, and +two little brown fists that gave and took with each stride of the +galloping horse.</p> + +<p>Chukkers was not the only one who seized the situation.</p> + +<p>The bookies absorbed it in a flash—the outsider's form, the jockey's +colours, the significance of both. It was Old Mat's horse—Old Mat who +had sprung surprises on the ring so often in his time. Rumour had always +said that the horse was by Berserker. Then they had disbelieved. +Now—well, he looked it.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the ring went mad.</p> + +<p>"Six to four the favourite!" the bookies roared. "Seven to four on the +field!"</p> + +<p>The English, too, woke to the fact that they had a champion at last. A +thirst for vengeance, after all they had endured at the hands of the +contumelious foe, carried them away. They stood up and howled. The +Americans, who had seen the cup of victory brought to their lips and +snatched away again, roused by the threat to their favourite, responded +wrathfully. Roar answered roar; New England thundered against Old.</p> + +<p>Chukkers, as always, had steadied the mare after her rush. Now he +changed his tactics to meet the new situation. As the horses made for +the water, the mare on the rails, and the outsider wide on the right, +Chukkers began to nibble at her. The action was faint, yet most +significant.</p> + +<p>"He ain't <i>ridin'</i>," muttered Old Mat, watching closely through his +glasses—"not yet. I won't say that. But he's spinnin' her."</p> + +<p>Indeed it was so. The crowd saw it; the Boys, gnawing their thumbs, saw +it; the bookies, red-faced from screaming, saw it, too.</p> + +<p>The crowd bellowed their comments.</p> + +<p>"She's held!"</p> + +<p>"The mare's beat!"</p> + +<p>"Brown's only cantering!"</p> + +<p>"She's all out!"</p> + +<p>In all that riot of voices, and storm of tossing figures, two men kept +calm.</p> + +<p>Old Mat was genial; Silver still, his chest heaving beneath his folded +arms.</p> + +<p>"Like a hare and a greyhound," muttered the old man, apt as always.</p> + +<p>"Got it all to themselves now," said Silver. "And the best horse wins."</p> + +<p>"Bar the dirty," suggested the trainer.</p> + +<p>The warning was timely.</p> + +<p class="center"> +<img src="images/illus02.png" alt="aintree" /> + +</p> + +<p class="center">AINTREE: Plan of Course</p> + +<p>Just before the water Rushton pulled out suddenly right across the brown +horse.</p> + +<p>It was a deliberate foul, ably executed.</p> + +<p>The crowd saw it and howled, and the bookmakers screamed at the +offending jockey as he rode off the course into the Paddock.</p> + +<p>"Plucky little effort!" shouted Old Mat in Silver's ear. "He deserved to +pull it off."</p> + +<p>No harm, in fact, had been done.</p> + +<p>Four-Pound-the-Second had missed Jackaroo's quarters by half a length; +but the big horse never faltered in his stride, charging on like a +bull-buffalo, and rising at the water as the mare landed over it.</p> + +<p>The old man dropped his glasses, and settled back on his heels.</p> + +<p>"What next?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Can't do much now, I guess," answered Silver comfortably.</p> + +<p>Old Mat turned in his lips.</p> + +<p>"Watch it, sir," he said. "There's millions in it."</p> + +<p>As the favourite and the outsider swept away for the second round in a +pursuing roar, the width of the course lay between them. The mare hugged +the rails; the brown horse swung wide on the right.</p> + +<p>"You're giving her plenty of room, Mr. Woodburn," said the White Hat in +front.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my lord," Mat answered. "'Don't crowd her,' I says. 'She likes a +lot o' room. So do Chukkers.'"</p> + +<p>Just clear of the course outside the rails, under the Embankment, a +little group of police made a dark blue knot about the stretcher on +which Boy Braithwaite had been taken from the course. As the brown horse +swept hard by the group a blob of yellow thrust up suddenly above the +rails amid the blue. It was too much even for Four-Pound. He shied away +and crashed into his fence. Only his weight and the speed at which he +was travelling carried him through. A soughing groan went up from the +Grand Stand, changing to a roar, as the great horse, quick as a goat, +recovered himself and settled unconcernedly to his stride again.</p> + +<p>"Riz from the dead to do us in," muttered Old Mat. "Now he's goin' 'ome +again," as the blob of yellow collapsed once more. "P'raps he'll stop +this time."</p> + +<p>"I think it was an accident," said Silver.</p> + +<p>"I know them accidents," answered Old Mat. "There's more to come."</p> + +<p>For the moment it seemed to the watchers as if the mare was forging +ahead; and the Americans took heart once again. But the green jacket and +the star-spangled rose at Beecher's Brook together; and the young horse, +as though chastened by his escape, was fencing like a veteran.</p> + +<p>As the horses turned to the left at the Corner, something white detached +itself from the stragglers on the Embankment and shot down the slope at +the galloping horses like a scurry of foam.</p> + +<p>"Dog this time," grunted Old Mat, watching through his glasses. +"Lurcher, big as a bull-calf."</p> + +<p>Whatever it was, it missed its mark and flashed across the course just +clear of the heels of the Putnam horse. He went striding along, +magnificently unmoved.</p> + +<p>Old Mat nodded grimly.</p> + +<p>"You can't upset my little Fo'-Pound—bar only risin's from the dead, +which ain't 'ardly accordin' not under National Hunt Rules anyway," he +said. "If a tiger was to lep in his backside and chaw him a nice piece, +it wouldn't move <i>him</i> any."</p> + +<p>Many on the Grand Stand had not marked the incident. They were watching +now with all their eyes for a more familiar sensation.</p> + +<p>Chukkers was leaving the rails to swing for the Canal Turn.</p> + +<p>The Englishmen and bookies, their hands to their mouths, were screaming +exhortations, warnings, advice, to the little fair jockey far away.</p> + +<p>"Canal Turn!"</p> + +<p>"Dirty Dago!"</p> + +<p>"The old game!"</p> + +<p>"Watch him, lad!"</p> + +<p>"His only chance!"</p> + +<p>"Riding for the bump!"</p> + +<p>Old Mat paid no heed.</p> + +<p>"Mouse bump a mountain," he grunted. "But Chukkers won't get the +chance."</p> + +<p>And it seemed he was right.</p> + +<p>The fence before the Turn the brown horse was leading by a length and +drawing steadily away, as the voices of the triumphant English and the +faces of the Americans proclaimed.</p> + +<p>Mat stared through his glasses.</p> + +<p>"Chukkers is talkin'," he announced. "And he's got somefin to talk about +from all I can see of it."</p> + +<p>Any danger there might have been had, in fact, been averted by the +pressing tactics of the Putnam jockey.</p> + +<p>The two horses came round the Turn almost together, the inside berth +having brought the mare level again.</p> + +<p>Side by side they came over Valentine's Brook, moving together almost +automatically, their fore-legs shooting out straight as a cascade, their +jockeys swinging back together as though one; stride for stride they +came along the green in a roar so steady and enduring that it seemed +almost natural as a silence.</p> + +<p>Old Mat shut his glasses, clasped his hands behind him, and steadied on +his feet.</p> + +<p>"Now," he said comfortably. "Ding-dong. 'Ammer and tongs. 'Ow I likes to +see it."</p> + +<p>He peeped up at the young man, who did not seem to hear. Silver stood +unmoved by the uproar all around him, apparently unconscious of it. He +was away, dwelling in a far city of pride on heights of snow. His spirit +was in his eyes, and his eyes on that bobbing speck of green flowing +swiftly toward him with sudden lurches and forward flings at the fences.</p> + +<p>All around him men were raging, cheering, and stamping. What the bookies +were yelling nobody could hear; but it was clear from their faces that +they believed the favourite was beat.</p> + +<p>And their faith was based upon reality, since Chukkers for the first +time in the history of the mare was using his whip.</p> + +<p>Once it fell, and again, in terrible earnest. There was a gasp from the +gathered multitudes as they saw and understood. That swift, relentless +hand was sounding the knell of doom to the hopes of thousands.</p> + +<p>Indeed, it was clear that Chukkers was riding now as he had never ridden +before.</p> + +<p>And the boy on the brown never moved.</p> + +<p>Three fences from home Chukkers rallied the mare and called on her for a +final effort.</p> + +<p>Game to the last drop, she answered him.</p> + +<p>But the outsider held his own without an effort.</p> + +<p>Then the note of the thundering multitudes changed again with dramatic +suddenness. Hope, that had died away, and Fear, that had vanished +utterly, were a-wing once more. In the air they met and clashed +tumultuously. America was soaring into the blue; England fluttering +earthward again. And the cause was not far to seek.</p> + +<p>The boy on the brown was tiring. He was swaying in his saddle.</p> + +<p>A thousand glasses fixed on his face confirmed the impression.</p> + +<p>"Nipper's beat for the distance!" came the cry.</p> + +<p>"Brown horse wins! Green jacket loses!"</p> + +<p>The Grand Stand saw it. Chukkers saw it, too. His eyes were fixed on his +rival's face like the talons of a vulture in his prey. They never +stirred; they never lifted. He came pressing up alongside his +enemy—insistent, clinging, ruthless as a stoat. Silver could have +screamed. That foul, insistent creature was the Evil One pouring his +poisonous suggestions into the ears of Innocence, undoing her, +fascinating her, thrusting in upon her virgin mind, invading the +sanctuary, polluting the Holy of Holies, seizing it, obsessing it.</p> + +<p>And the emotion roused was not peculiar to the young man alone. It +seemed to be contagious. Swift as it was unseen, it ran from mind to +mind, infecting all with a horror of fear and loathing.</p> + +<p>"He's swearing at him!" cried the White Hat, aghast.</p> + +<p>"B—— shame!" shouted another.</p> + +<p>"Tryin' to rattle the lad!"</p> + +<p>And a howl of indignation went up to the unheeding heavens.</p> + +<p>To Silver it was no longer a race: it was the world-struggle, old as +time—Right against Wrong, Light against Dark. He was watching it like +God; and, like God, he could do nothing. His voice was lost in his +throat. Outwardly calm, he was dumb, tormented, and heaving like a sea +in travail. A tumult of waters surged and trampled and foamed within +him.</p> + +<p>Then the nightmare passed.</p> + +<p>The boy on the brown rallied; and, it seemed, a fainting nation rallied +with him.</p> + +<p>He steadied himself, sat still as a cloud for a moment, and then stirred +deliberately and of set purpose.</p> + +<p>He was asking his horse the question. There was no doubt of the reply.</p> + +<p>Four-Pound shot to the front like a long-dammed stream.</p> + +<p>His vampire enemy clung for a desperate moment, and then faded away +behind amid the groans of his maddened supporters and the acclamations +of the triumphant Englishmen.</p> + +<p>"Got her dead to the world!" cried Old Mat, a note of battle resounding +deeply through his voice. "What price Putnam's now!" And he thumped the +rail.</p> + +<p>But the end was not even yet. The great English horse came moving like a +flood round the corner and swooped gloriously over the last fence.</p> + +<p>The roar that had held the air toppled away into a sound as of a +world-avalanche, shot with screams.</p> + +<p>The jockey in green had pitched forward as his horse landed.</p> + +<p>He scrambled for a moment, and somehow wriggled back into his +seat—short of his whip.</p> + +<p>The Grand Stand became a maelstrom.</p> + +<p>Men were fighting, women fainting. The Americans were screaming to +Chukkers to press; the English yelling to the nipper to ride—for the +Almighty's sake.</p> + +<p>The brown horse and his jockey came past the Open Ditch and down the +straight in a hurricane that might not have been, so little did either +heed it.</p> + +<p>The little jockey was far away, riding as in a death-swoon, his face +silvery beneath his cap. His reins were in both hands, and he was +stirring with them faintly as one who would ride a finish and cannot.</p> + +<p>"That's a little bit o' better," said Old Mat cheerfully, preparing to +move. "My little Fo'-Pound'll see us 'ome."</p> + +<p>And indeed the young horse, with the judgment of a veteran who knows to +a yard when he may shut up, had eased away into a canter, and broke into +a trot as he passed the post.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XLIX" id="CHAPTER_XLIX"></a>CHAPTER XLIX<br /> + +<span class="smcap">The Last Card</span></h4> + + +<p>Chukkers was beaten out of sight. The Oriental in him blurted to the +top. He lost his head and his temper and began to butcher his mount.</p> + +<p>As he drove the mare down the run home, foaming and bloody, he was +flaying her.</p> + +<p>The Americans had all lost money, some of them fortunes: that didn't +matter so much. Their idol had been beaten fair and square: that +mattered a great deal. But she was still their idol, and Chukkers had +butchered her before their eyes.</p> + +<p>And he was Chukkers!—the greaser!</p> + +<p>They rose up in wrath like a vast, avenging cloud, and went raving over +the barrier on to the course in tumultuous black flood. The ruck of +beaten horses, bobbing home one by one, crashed into them. The mob, +without regard for its shattered atoms, moved on like one. A roaring sea +of humanity swung on its blind way. Above the dark waters jockeys in +silken jackets and on sweating thoroughbreds drifted to and fro like +helpless butterflies. While in contrast to these many-coloured creatures +of faerie, the great-coated and helmeted police in blue, on horses, +hairy and solid as themselves, butted their way through the clamorous +deeps, as they made for the rock round which the angry waves were +breaking.</p> + +<p>They had their work cut out, and used their bludgeons with a will.</p> + +<p>Round the man upon the beaten favourite the mob swirled and screamed +like a hyena-pack at the kill.</p> + +<p>Chukkers was a brute; but to do him justice he was not a coward.</p> + +<p>The high-cheeked Mongolian, yellow with anger and chagrin, was using his +whip without mercy.</p> + +<p>The hub-bub was as of a battle the most horrible, for there were women +in it, screaming for blood.</p> + +<p>"Lynch him!" came the roar.</p> + +<p>"Pull him off!"</p> + +<p>"Trample him!"</p> + +<p>"Stick him with this!"</p> + +<p>Monkey Brand, who had suddenly come to life, had hold of the winner, +sweating, amiable, entirely unmoved by the pandemonium around, and was +leading him away into the Paddock through the outskirts of the howling +mob.</p> + +<p>The crowd was too maddened to pay attention to the little man and his +great charge. Those who were not bent on murdering Chukkers were +absorbed in watching those who were.</p> + +<p>Old Mat, trotting at Silver's side, was chuckling and cooing to himself +like a complacent baby, as the pair descended the Grand Stand and made +for the Paddock.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he was saying, "my bankers'll be please—very please, they will. +And good cause why. That's a hundud thousand quid, Mr. Silver, in my +pocket—all a-jinglin' and a-tinglin'. 'Ark to em!—like 'erald angels +on the go." He paused, touched the other's arm, and panted huskily: +"Funny thing! A minute since it was in the h'air—ewaporated, as the +sayin' is. Now it's here—froze tight." He slapped his pocket. "Makes +the 'ead to think and the 'eart to rejoice, as the Psalmist said on much +a similar occasion. Only we'd best not tell Mar. Wonderful woman, Mar, +Mr. Silver, and grows all the while more wonderfulerer. Only where it is +is—there it is." He lifted his rogue-eye to the young man's face and +cried in an ecstasy of glee. "Oh, how glorioushly does the wicked +flourish—if only so be they'll keep their eyeballs skinned!"</p> + +<p>At the gate the White Hat stopped him.</p> + +<p>"So you've got up on 'em again, Mr. Woodburn," he said. +"Congratulations, Mr. Silver."</p> + +<p>On the course the pair ran into Monkey Brand, leading the winner home.</p> + +<p>"Here, sir!" he cried, seeming excited for the first time in his life. +"All O.K. Bit giddified like. That's all. Take the horse. The Three J's +mean business, I tell ye. I must be moving."</p> + +<p>Silver looked up at the little jockey perched aloft upon the brown.</p> + +<p>"All right?" he asked keenly.</p> + +<p>The other, whose peaked cap was drawn far over his eyes, nodded down +through the tumult, saying no word.</p> + +<p>At the moment Jaggers ran past, trying to get at his jockey. Joses, +slobbering at the mouth, was shouting in the trainer's ear.</p> + +<p>Both men plunged into the vortex.</p> + +<p>"Easy all!" came Jaggers's priest-like voice. "Give him a chance, boys. +We aren't beat yet."</p> + +<p>"Win, tie, or wrangle!" muttered Old Mat. "That's the Three J's all +right."</p> + +<p>The mounted police were shepherding Chukkers off the course into the +Paddock. There was murder in his face. He swung about and showed his +yellow fangs like a mobbed wolf at the pack baying at his heels.</p> + +<p>Once inside the Paddock he was just going to dismount, when Jaggers, +Joses, and Ikey Aaronsohnn rushed at him and held him on.</p> + +<p>"Stick to her!" screamed Joses.</p> + +<p>The little group drifted past Old Mat and Jim Silver, who was holding +the winner. Four-Pound-the Second's jockey had already disappeared into +the weighing-room.</p> + +<p>"Ain't done yet," screamed the jockey vengefully as he passed.</p> + +<p>"You're never done," said Silver quietly, as he stroked the muzzle of +the reeking brown. "Never could take a licking like a gentleman!"</p> + +<p>The jockey, beside himself, leaned out toward the other.</p> + +<p>"Want it across the —— mug, do ye, Silver?" he yelled. "One way o' +winnin'!"</p> + +<p>"Come, then, Mr. Woodburn. This won't do!" cried Jaggers austerely as he +passed.</p> + +<p>"Of course it won't," answered Old Mat. "Dropped a rare packet among +you, ain't you? Think you're goin' to let that pass without tryin' on +the dirty?"</p> + +<p>The White Hat leaned down from the Grand Stand.</p> + +<p>"What's the trouble, Mr. Jaggers?" he cried.</p> + +<p>"Miss Woodburn rode the winner, my lord," answered the trainer at the +top of his voice.</p> + +<p>The words ran like a flame along the top of the crowd.</p> + +<p>They leapt from mouth to mouth, out of the Paddock, on to the course, +and round it. And where they fell there was instant hush followed by a +roar, in which a new note sounded: <i>All was not lost.</i> The Americans, +cast down to earth a moment since, rose like a wild-maned breaker +towering before it falls in thunder and foam upon the beach. There was +wrath still in their clamour; but their cry now was for Justice and not +for Revenge.</p> + +<p>John Bull had been at it again. The fair jockey was a girl. Some had +known it all along. Others had guessed it from the first. All had been +sure there would be hanky-panky.</p> + +<p>As they came shoving off the course into the Paddock, and heaved about +the weighing-room, the howl subdued into a buzz as of a swarm of angry +bees.</p> + +<p>The thousands were waiting for a sign, and the growl that rose from them +was broken only by groans, cat-calls, whistles, and vengeful bursts of</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;"><i>Hands off and no hanky-panky!</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Old Mat, Jim Silver, and the great horse stood on the edge of the +throng, quite unconcerned.</p> + +<p>Many noticed them; not a few essayed enquiries.</p> + +<p>"Is your jockey a gal, Mr. Woodburn?"</p> + +<p>"So they says," answered Old Mat.</p> + +<p>"Where's Miss Woodburn then?"</p> + +<p>"Inside, they tell me."</p> + +<p>He nodded to the door of the weighing-room, which opened at the moment.</p> + +<p>In it, above the crowd, appeared the jockey with the green jacket, his +cap well over his eyes.</p> + +<p>There was an instant hush. Then English and Americans, bookies and +backers, began to bawl against each other.</p> + +<p>"Are you a gal?" screamed some one in the crowd.</p> + +<p>"No, I ain't," came the shrill, defiant answer.</p> + +<p>The voice did not satisfy the crowd.</p> + +<p>"Take off your cap, Miss!" yelled another.</p> + +<p>"Let's see your face!"</p> + +<p>Joses, who was standing by the steps that led up to the weighing-room, +leapt on to them and snatched the cap from the jockey's head.</p> + +<p>He stood displayed before them, fair-haired, close-cropped, shy, and a +little sullen.</p> + +<p>There was a moment's pause. Then divergent voices shot heavenward and +clashed against each other.</p> + +<p>"It is!"</p> + +<p>"It's her!"</p> + +<p>"That's Miss Woodburn!"</p> + +<p>"No, it ain't!"</p> + +<p>Words were becoming blows, and there were altercations everywhere, when +the Clerk of the Scales appeared on the steps and held up his hand for +silence.</p> + +<p>"Where <i>is</i> Miss Woodburn?" he called.</p> + +<p>The words confirmed suspicion, and brought forth a roar of cheering from +the Americans.</p> + +<p>"Here, sir!" panted a voice.</p> + +<p>Monkey Brand was forcing his way through the crowd, heralded by the +police. Behind him followed a slight figure in dark blue.</p> + +<p>"Is that Miss Woodburn?" called the Clerk.</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied a deep voice. "Here I am."</p> + +<p>"Would you step up here?"</p> + +<p>The girl ran up the steps, and took her place by the little jockey. +Whoever else was disconcerted, it was not she.</p> + +<p>A sound that was not quite a groan rose from the watching crowd and died +away.</p> + +<p>The girl gave her hand to the jockey.</p> + +<p>"Well ridden, Albert," she said, and in the silence her words were heard +by thousands.</p> + +<p>The lad touched his forehead, and took her hand sheepishly.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Miss," he answered.</p> + +<p>Then the storm broke, and the bookies who had made millions over the +defeat of the favourite led the roar.</p> + +<p>There was no mistaking the matter now. The Boys had been sold again.</p> + +<p>The rougher elements amongst Ikey's Own sought a scape-goat.</p> + +<p>They found him in Joses.</p> + +<p>Chukkers came out of the weighing-room and deliberately struck the fat +man. That started it: the crowd did the rest.</p> + +<p>Old Mat and Jim Silver waited on the outskirts of the hub-bub.</p> + +<p>The American Ambassador and his tall dark daughter stood near by.</p> + +<p>"What stories they tell," said the great man in his gentle way.</p> + +<p>"Don't they, sir?" answered Old Mat, wiping an innocent blue eye. "And +they gets no better as the years go by. They saddens me and Mar. They +does reelly."</p> + +<p>Boy Woodburn, making her way through the crowd, joined the little group.</p> + +<p>"Congratulations, Miss Woodburn," said the Ambassador's daughter shyly. +"The best horse won."</p> + +<p>The fair girl beamed on the dark.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Miss Whitney," she answered. "A good race. You were giving +us a ton of weight."</p> + +<p>Perhaps the girl was a little paler than her wont; but there was no +touch of lyrical excitement about her. Outwardly she was the +least-moved person in the Paddock.</p> + +<p>Jim Silver's eyes were shining down on her.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said.</p> + +<p>She led away. He followed at her shoulder, the horse's bridle over his +arm.</p> + +<p>"You've won your hundred thousand," she said.</p> + +<p>His eyes were wistful and smiling as they dwelt upon her figure that +drooped a little.</p> + +<p>"Hadn't a bean on," he said.</p> + +<p>She did not seem surprised.</p> + +<p>Her hand was on the wet neck of the horse, her eyes on her hand.</p> + +<p>Then she raised them to his, and they were shining with rainbow beauty.</p> + +<p>"I know you hadn't," she said.</p> + +<p>Her hand touched his.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Close by them a black mass was seething round something upon the ground.</p> + +<p>"That's Joses," she said. "Stop the worry, will you?—and send Monkey +Brand to take the horse."</p> + +<p>Jim Silver turned. Somewhere in the middle of that tossing mass was a +human being.</p> + +<p>Using his strength remorselessly, the young man broke his way through. +By the time he reached the centre of the maelstrom the police had +cleared a space round the fallen man.</p> + +<p>He lay panting in the mud, a desolate and dreadful figure, his waistcoat +burst open, and shirt protruding, his shock of red hair a-loose on the +ground.</p> + +<p>Jim was not the first to get to the fallen man.</p> + +<p>Monkey Brand was already kneeling at his side, bottle in hand.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my! Mr. Joses, my!" the little jockey was saying. "What you want is +just a drop o' comfort out o' me bottle. Open a little, and I'll pour."</p> + +<p>Silver was just in time.</p> + +<p>"That'll do, Brand," he said. "I'll see to this. Give me the bottle. You +go to Miss Boy."</p> + +<p>A doctor was called in and reported that the fat man's condition was +serious. An ambulance was brought, and Joses removed.</p> + +<p>Silver saw it off the ground.</p> + +<p>As it came to the gate, Chukkers, on his way to his motor, passed it.</p> + +<p>"He deserves all he's got," he said. "He's a bad un."</p> + +<p>"He's served you pretty well, anyway," answered Jim angrily.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_L" id="CHAPTER_L"></a>CHAPTER L<br /> + +<span class="smcap">The Fat Man Takes His Ticket</span></h4> + + +<p>In Cuckmere, that quiet village between the Weald and the sea, in which +there was the normal amount of lying, thieving, drunkenness, low-living, +back-biting, and slander, there dwelt two souls who had fought +steadfastly and unobtrusively for twenty years to raise the moral and +material standards of the community.</p> + +<p>One was the vicar of the parish, and the other Mrs. Woodburn. The two +worked together for the common end unknown except to each other and +those they helped.</p> + +<p>Mr. Haggard was something of a saint and something of a scholar. Mrs. +Woodburn had been born among the people, knew them, their family +histories, and failings; was wise, tolerant, and liberal alike in purse +and judgment. Her practical capacity made a good counterpoise to the +other's benevolence and generous impetuosity.</p> + +<p>When the vicar was in trouble about a case, he always went to Mrs. +Woodburn long before he went to the Duke; and he rarely went in vain.</p> + +<p>The parlour at Putnam's had seen much intimate communion between these +two high and tranquil spirits over causes that were going ill and souls +reluctant to be saved. The vicar always came to Putnam's: Mrs. Woodburn +never went to the Vicarage. That was partly because the vicar's wife was +a stout and strenuous churchwoman who cherished a genuine horror of +what she called "chapel" as the most insidious and deadly foe of the +spirit, and still more because Mrs. Haggard was a woman, and a jealous +one at that.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was a few days after the National that the vicar made one of his +calls at Putnam's.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" asked Mrs. Woodburn in her direct and simple way after the +first greeting.</p> + +<p>She knew he never came except on business.</p> + +<p>"It's that wretched fellow Joses," he answered. "He's been in some +scrape at the National, I gather, and got himself knocked about. Somehow +he crawled back to his earth. I rather believe Mr. Silver paid his +train-fare and saw him through."</p> + +<p>"Is he dying?" asked Mrs. Woodburn.</p> + +<p>The vicar replied that the parish nurse thought he was in a very bad +way.</p> + +<p>"Is she seeing to him?"</p> + +<p>"She's doing what she can."</p> + +<p>"We'd better ask Dr. Pollock to go round and look at him," said Mrs. +Woodburn. "Don't you bother any more, Mr. Haggard. I'll see that the +best is done."</p> + +<p>She telephoned to the Polefax doctor.</p> + +<p>That afternoon he called at Putnam's and made his report.</p> + +<p>"He's in a very bad way, Mrs. Woodburn," he said. "Advanced arterial +deterioration. And the condition is complicated by some deep-seated +fear-complex."</p> + +<p>The doctor was young, up-to-date, and dabbling in psycho-therapy.</p> + +<p>"Fear of death?" asked Mrs. Woodburn.</p> + +<p>"Fear of life, I think," the other answered. "He wouldn't talk to me. +And I can't, of course, attempt a mental analysis."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Woodburn had no notion what he meant, and believed, perhaps +rightly, that he did not know himself.</p> + +<p>"He's been unfortunate," she said.</p> + +<p>"So I guessed," answered the young man. "He asked me who sent me, and +when I told him said he'd be grateful if you'd call on him."</p> + +<p>"I'll go round."</p> + +<p>Toward evening she called at the cottage.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Boam showed her up.</p> + +<p>Joses lay on a bed under the slope of the roof, his head at the window +so that he could look out.</p> + +<p>His face was faintly livid, and he breathed with difficulty.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Woodburn's heart went out to him at the first glance.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry to see you like this, Mr. Joses," she said gently. "You +wanted to see me?"</p> + +<p>"Well," he answered, "it was <i>Miss</i> Woodburn I wanted to see." He looked +at her wistfully out of eyes that women had once held beautiful. "D'you +think she'd come?"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure she will," the other answered reassuringly.</p> + +<p>Joses lay with his mop of red hair like a dingy and graying aureole +against the pillow.</p> + +<p>"D'you mind?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Her eyes filled with kindness. He seemed to her so much a child.</p> + +<p>"What! Her coming to see you here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>She smiled at him in her large and loving way.</p> + +<p>"Of course I don't," she said, and added almost archly: "And if I did +I'm not sure it would make much difference."</p> + +<p>He found himself laughing.</p> + +<p>She moved about the room, ordering it.</p> + +<p>Then she returned to Putnam's to seek her daughter.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>After the National Boy had emerged from the cloud which had long covered +her.</p> + +<p>She returned home, radiant and impenitent.</p> + +<p>"I've been thinking things over," she said on the morning after her +return. "And I'll forgive you, mother, for your lack of faith."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, my dear," replied the other laconically.</p> + +<p>"This once," added Boy firmly. "Now, mind!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Mrs. Woodburn now gave her daughter Joses's message.</p> + +<p>The girl said nothing, but visited the cottage next morning.</p> + +<p>She stood in the door, firm and fresh, the colour in her hair, the bloom +on her cheeks, and looked at that mass of decaying man upon the bed.</p> + +<p>"Are you bad?" she asked, anxious as a child.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I'm not very good," he answered.</p> + +<p>She snatched her eyes away.</p> + +<p>"Well, I congratulate you," he said at last, quietly.</p> + +<p>She sought for irony in his voice and eyes, and detected none.</p> + +<p>"What on?"</p> + +<p>"Your victory."</p> + +<p>Her face softened.</p> + +<p>"Thank you."</p> + +<p>"You deserved to win," continued the other, with genuine admiration. +"You rode a great race. I couldn't have believed a girl could have got +the course if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes." His gaze met hers +quite honestly. "You see I didn't count on the double fake. I knew you +were going to ride as Albert, but I'd quite forgotten the +corollary—that Albert might dress as you. That's where you beat me."</p> + +<p>The girl's chest was rising and falling.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Joses," she said, "I didn't ride the horse."</p> + +<p>His eyes sought hers, dissatisfied, and then wandered to the window.</p> + +<p>"Well, well," he said. "We won't argue about it. Anyway, you won."</p> + +<p>Boy looked out of the window.</p> + +<p>"I <i>did</i> try and deceive you into thinking I was going to ride," she +said with a quake in her voice. "That was partly deviltry and partly to +put you off. I thought if you believed you could get back on us <i>after</i> +the race you'd not try it on before. Besides, I could never ride the +course. Three miles was my limit over fences at racing speed when I was +at my best, and that's some years since."</p> + +<p>He was quite unconvinced.</p> + +<p>"I give you best, Miss Woodburn," he said. "But Albert could never have +ridden that race. Never! It was a good win. And you deserved it. But it +wasn't that I wanted to see you about." He looked round the little room. +"It's not much of a place perhaps, you may think. But there's the +window, and the sight of grass, and cows grazing and folks passing on +the path. And in this house there's Mrs. Boam, and Jenny, and the +pussy-cat. I should miss it." He lifted those suffering eyes of his. "I +don't want to pass what little time I've left in the cage."</p> + +<p>"But they won't hurt you now," cried Boy. "They couldn't."</p> + +<p>The other laughed his dreadful laughter.</p> + +<p>"Couldn't they?" he said. "You don't know 'em. It's the cat-and-mouse +business all the time. I'm the mouse. I've been there."</p> + +<p>"But you've done nothing," said Boy.</p> + +<p>Joses moved his head on the pillow.</p> + +<p>"There's just one thing," he said, dropping his voice. "Mr. Silver's got +a little bit of paper that might make trouble for me."</p> + +<p>"But he shall give it up!" cried the girl.</p> + +<p>"Will he?" grunted the other.</p> + +<p>"Of course he will. He's as kind as kind."</p> + +<p>Joses shook a dubious head.</p> + +<p>"Men are men," he said. "And when men get across each other they are +tigers."</p> + +<p>"He's a tame one," said the girl. "I'll see to that."</p> + +<p>"He might be," muttered the other. "In the hands of the right tamer."</p> + +<p>Boy went straight back to Putnam's and discovered Mr. Silver smoking in +the saddle-room.</p> + +<p>She told him what had passed.</p> + +<p>"I know," he said. "Here it is." He produced the bit of paper. "I'll +burn it," and he held it to the bowl of his pipe.</p> + +<p>"No!" cried the girl. "Give it me."</p> + +<p>She took it straight back to the sick man.</p> + +<p>He lit a match and watched it burn with eyes that were almost covetous.</p> + +<p>"That's the last of 'em," he said. "Now I shall die in the open like a +gentleman."</p> + +<p>He was, in fact, dying very fast.</p> + +<p>It did not need Dr. Pollock's assurance to make the girl aware of that.</p> + +<p>She longed to help him.</p> + +<p>"Would you like to see Mr. Haggard?" she asked awkwardly.</p> + +<p>He shook his head, amused.</p> + +<p>"He'd come the parson over me."</p> + +<p>"I don't think he would."</p> + +<p>"He couldn't help it if he was true to his cloth."</p> + +<p>"I'm not sure he is," said Boy doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"You're the same," he said.</p> + +<p>She glanced up at him swiftly.</p> + +<p>His eyes were mischievous, almost roguish.</p> + +<p>"What d'you mean?"</p> + +<p>"You want me to repent."</p> + +<p>She coloured guiltily, and he laughed like a boy, delighted with his own +cleverness.</p> + +<p>"There's one thing Mr. Haggard might do for me," he said. "Lend me +Clutton Brock's <i>Shelley</i>, if he would. He's got it, I know."</p> + +<p>The girl made a mental note, wrinkling her brow.</p> + +<p>"Shelley's <i>Clutton Brock</i>," she said. "I'll remember."</p> + +<p>She sat beside his bed. His eyes dwelt on her keen, earnest young face, +and the blue eyes gazing thoughtfully out of the window.</p> + +<p>"You're a Philistine," he said at last. "But you're clean. Philistines +are. That's the best of them."</p> + +<p>"What's a Philistine?" she asked.</p> + +<p>He did not answer her.</p> + +<p>"You're the cleanest thing I've met," he continued. "There's a flame +burning in you all the time that devours all your rubbish. Mine +accumulates and corrupts."</p> + +<p>"I don't like you to talk like that," said the girl, withdrawing.</p> + +<p>"There's only one thing that'll purge me," the other continued.</p> + +<p>"What's that?"</p> + +<p>"Fire."</p> + +<p>The girl's eyes darkened.</p> + +<p>"Are you afraid?" she asked swiftly.</p> + +<p>"Of Hell with a large H?"</p> + +<p>She nodded, and he laughed.</p> + +<p>"What I've had I've paid for across the counter and got the receipt +stamped and signed by the Almighty. No, it's not the fires of Hell; it's +the power of the old sun working on my vile body through the ages +that'll renew me with beauty and youth in time. Life's eternal, sure +enough; but not on the lines the parsons tell us."</p> + +<p>A little later she rose to go.</p> + +<p>He detained her.</p> + +<p>"Shall you come and see me again?" he asked her.</p> + +<p>She gave him a shy and brilliant smile.</p> + +<p>"Rather," she said. "So'll mother."</p> + +<p>He kissed her hand, and there was beauty in his eyes.</p> + +<p>Next day she called with the book from Mr. Haggard.</p> + +<p>Dr. Pollock was coming down the path.</p> + +<p>"He's out of pain," he said gravely.</p> + +<p>Boy returned to Putnam's and picked some violets.</p> + +<p>Then she came back to the cottage.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Boam was weeping as she opened.</p> + +<p>"May I see him?" said the girl.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Miss," answered the other. "We shall miss him, Jenny and me. He +were that lovable."</p> + +<p>Boy went upstairs and entered.</p> + +<p>Joses was at peace: the dignity of death upon him.</p> + +<p>She laid the violets on his breast.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_LI" id="CHAPTER_LI"></a>CHAPTER LI<br /> + +<span class="smcap">Old Mat on Heaven and Earth</span></h4> + + +<p>When Old Mat returned home from Liverpool he hung his hat on the peg and +informed Silver that he had undergone conversion—for good this time.</p> + +<p>"Nebber no more," he announced solemnly. "I done with bettin'—now I got +the cash. Always promised Mar I'd be God's good man soon as I could +afford it. Moreover, besides I might lose some o' what I made. And then +I might have another backslide." He settled himself in his leather +chair, drew his feet out of his slippers, and his pass-book out of his +pocket.</p> + +<p>"It's cash spells conwersion, Mr. Silver," he panted. "I've often seen +it in others, and now I knows it for meself. A noo-er, tru-er and +bootifler h'outlook upon life, as Mr. 'Aggard said last Sunday—hall the +houtcome o' cash in 'and. Yes, sir, if you wants to conwert the world, +the way's clear—<i>Pay cash down.</i> That's why these 'ere Socialists are +on the grow; because they talks common-sense. 'It's dollars as does it,' +they says. 'Give every chap a bankin'-account, and you'll see.' What's +Church h'up and h'answer to that? Church says: 'It's all in conwersion. +Bank on conwersion. Cash is but wrath and must that corrupts,' says the +clergy. 'Leave the cash to us,' they says. 'We'll see to that for you, +while you keeps out o' temptation and saves your souls alive.'"</p> + +<p>When Mrs. Woodburn told the old man the news about Joses, he received it +gravely.</p> + +<p>"Moved on, has he?" he said. "I'm sorry. I shall miss him. I always +misses that sort. Shouldn't feel at home like without some of them +around. Well, Mar, we shall all meet in the yappy yappy land, plea Gob +in his goodness." He burst into a sort of chaunt, wagging his head, and +beating time with his fist—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">"<i>Ho, won't that be jiy-ful?</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;"><i>Jam for the fythe-ful.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p>I wouldn't miss that meetin', Mar, not for all the nuts on Iceland's +greasy mountains, the Psalmist made the song about. I sees it all like +in a wision." His eyes closed, and his hands and feet swam vaguely. "Me +and Monkey o' the one side, and the Three J's o' tother, pitchin' the +tale a treat at tops of our voices." He opened his eyes slowly, ogled +Ma, tapped her knee, winked, and ended confidentially: "One thing, old +dear. I'll lay they'll give Putnam's best same there as here. Now +then!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="CHAPTER_LII" id="CHAPTER_LII"></a>CHAPTER LII<br /> + +<span class="smcap">Putnam's Once More</span></h4> + + +<p>It was Sunday morning at Putnam's, and in Maudie's estimation things +were more <i>comme il faut</i> than they had been for long past.</p> + +<p>About a fortnight since there had been trouble in the yard during the +night, and after it, for some hours before he went away, the +Monster-without-Manners had been subdued almost to gentlemanliness.</p> + +<p>Then two of the fan-tails had been taken ill. Maudie from the top of the +ladder had watched their dying contortions with the cynical interest of +a Roman matron criticizing the death-agonies of a gladiator in the +arena. When after staggering about the fan-tails turned over on their +backs and flopped, Maudie descended from her perch and toyed with them +daintily during their last moments, finally carrying their corpses up +into the loft.</p> + +<p>After that, Maudie felt queer herself, and not only from the results of +a stricken conscience. Indeed, but for the urgent and instant +ministrations of Putnam's Only Gentleman she would have followed where +the good fan-tails had gone.</p> + +<p>Thereafter, for a space of a week, there had fallen on the yard a +hallowed time of peace very different from the period of oppression and +irritable energy which had preceded it. Maudie attributed the change to +the absence of the Monster-without-Manners who had departed quietly with +the Four-legs there was all the fuss about.</p> + +<p>True, both had now returned, but in chastened mood, the result perhaps +of well-deserved affliction experienced in foreign lands.</p> + +<p>This morning things were much as of old. The fan-tails puffed and pouted +and sidled on the roofs. Across the Paddock Close came the sound of +church-bells, and from the Lads' Barn the voices of the boys singing a +hymn.</p> + +<p>The Bible Class was in full swing.</p> + +<p>All the lads were there but one. That one was Albert. He stood in lofty +isolation in the door of the stable, a cigarette in his mouth, his arms +folded and his face stiff with the self-consciousness that had obsessed +him since his ride in the National. Jerry and Stanley, once the friends +of Albert, and now his critics, swore that he never took that look off +even when he went to bed.</p> + +<p>"Wears it in his sleep," said Jerry, "same as his pidgearmours."</p> + +<p>But the loftiest of us cannot live forever on the Heights of +Make-Believe. And Albert, as he breathed the Spring, and remembered that +no one was by to see, relaxed, became himself, and began to warble not +unmelodiously—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">"<i>When the ruddy sun-shine</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;"><i>Beats the ruddy rain,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;"><i>Then the ruddy sparrow</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;"><i>'Gins to chirp again.</i>"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Mr. Silver came out of the house.</p> + +<p>Albert straightway resumed his air of a Roman Emperor turned stable-boy.</p> + +<p>The other listened to the singing that came from the barn.</p> + +<p>"Not inside, then, Albert?" he said.</p> + +<p>"No, sir," answered the other. "I leave that to the lads."</p> + +<p>Mr. Silver looked at his watch.</p> + +<p>"You'd better do a bolt before Miss Boy catches you," he said.</p> + +<p>Albert redoubled his frozen Emperor mien.</p> + +<p>The other passed into the saddle-room; and Albert revealed the +bitterness of his soul to Maudie on the ladder.</p> + +<p>"He's all right now," he told his confidante. "Goin' to start the Bank +again, and all on what I won him. And all the return he can make is to +insultify me. That's the way of 'em, that is."</p> + +<p>A door opened at the back, and a rush of sound emerged.</p> + +<p>The lads were tumbling out of the Barn.</p> + +<p>Boy Woodburn came swiftly into the yard, her troop at her heels.</p> + +<p>She marked the truant in the door.</p> + +<p>"Well, Albert," she said. "We missed you."</p> + +<p>"He's too stuck up wiv 'isself to pray to Gob any more," mocked Jerry, +stopping while the girl went on into the stable.</p> + +<p>"He thinks he can do it all on his own wivout no 'elp from no one," +sneered Stanley. "Albert does."</p> + +<p>Albert swaggered forward.</p> + +<p>"Say!" he said to Jerry. "Was it you or me won the National?"</p> + +<p>"Neever," answered Jerry. "It was Miss Boy."</p> + +<p>"Did she ride him, then?" asked Albert.</p> + +<p>Jerry shot his face forward. All the other lads were at his back.</p> + +<p>"She did then," he said.</p> + +<p>Albert was white and blinking, but in complete control of himself.</p> + +<p>"Who says so?"</p> + +<p>"Everyone. You're a plucky fine actor and a mighty pore 'orseman, Albert +Edward," continued the tormentor.</p> + +<p>Albert was a lad of character. He had sworn to his mistress that if he +won the race he would henceforth drop the boy and don the man. And the +sign of his emancipation was to be that never again would he use his +dukes except in self-defence. Now in the hour of trial he was true to +his word.</p> + +<p>Happily the strain was relieved, for at the moment Boy, scenting +trouble, came out into the yard. Monkey Brand with her.</p> + +<p>Albert approached her.</p> + +<p>"Beg pardon, Miss, was it you or me won the National?" he asked. "These +'ere genelmen say it was you."</p> + +<p>"It was neither," replied the girl. "It was Four-Pound-the-Second. Come +in with me, Albert. I want to change his bandages."</p> + +<p>She reëntered the stable.</p> + +<p>Albert followed at a distance, slow and sullen.</p> + +<p>Boy entered the loose-box, and Billy Bluff rose to greet her with a +yawn.</p> + +<p>The door of the loose-box closed.</p> + +<p>The girl bent to her task.</p> + +<p>A hand was laid upon her shoulder.</p> + +<p>She looked up sharply.</p> + +<p>Jim Silver was standing above her, and the door was shut.</p> + +<p>"It's you, is it?" she said.</p> + +<p>He took her quivering life into his arms.</p> + +<p>"Now," she sighed.</p> + +<p>She raised her lips, and he laid his own upon them.</p> + +<p>"Again," she said with closed eyes.</p> + +<p>His own drank in her face.</p> + +<p>"You've been a patient old man," she whispered.</p> + +<p>"It was worth it," he answered.</p> + +<p>"I'll make it so," she said. "Please God!" she added with delightful +inconsequence. "I'm glad you didn't bet."</p> + +<p>The great brown horse turned his head and breathed on them.</p> + +<p>Boy disengaged, patting her hair. "I'm glad you didn't bet," she +repeated.</p> + +<p>"We shall have enough to farm on without that," he said. "And to breed a +few 'chasers."</p> + +<p>Her hand was moving up and down the horse's smooth, hard neck.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to breed 'chasers," she said.</p> + +<p>He laughed softly.</p> + +<p>"Don't you?"</p> + +<p>"No," she said. "I'm tired of it. I'm like mother. It's all right when +you're quite young. But it doesn't last—if you've got anything in you. +It's froth."</p> + +<p>He nodded.</p> + +<p>"You're right," he said. "What shall we breed?"</p> + +<p>"Shire horses," the girl replied. "Great, strong, useful creatures +that'll work all day and every day—"</p> + +<p>"Bar Sunday," he said. "Remember grand-pa, please."</p> + +<p>"—without a fuss," she continued, ignoring his impertinence, "shifting +trucks, drawing the plough, and carrying the wheat, and come home tired +of evenings with wet coats and healthy appetites."</p> + +<p>"My old love," he said. "You're right, my dear, of course. But he's a +beauty all the same."</p> + +<p>"He is that," replied Boy, with a friendly slap.</p> + +<p>They left the loose-box, Billy Bluff attending them.</p> + +<p>Monkey Brand, his back ostentatiously toward them, was on watch at the +door.</p> + +<p>He heard them coming down the gangway and turned shyly.</p> + +<p>Then he touched his hat.</p> + +<p>The girl took his hand and shook it with a will.</p> + +<p>Jim Silver followed suit.</p> + +<p>"Very please, Miss, I'm sure," gulped the old jockey.</p> + +<p>The little man drew Silver mysteriously aside.</p> + +<p>"Only one thing, sir," he said. "That little mistake o' yours about the +copper's nark. I'm goin' to forget <i>all</i> about that now."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Brand," answered Jim earnestly. "We all make mistakes, don't +we?"</p> + +<p>"That's right, sir," said Monkey. "Only that's a mistake I never +made—and never would."</p> + +<p>Some of the lads were still hanging about the yard. They knew, too. +Maudie knew. Even the fan-tails, splashing in mid-air, were not +deceived.</p> + +<p>Albert came forward and ventured a shy and sullen word of +congratulation.</p> + +<p>"That hundred thousand you won for me made it possible, no doubt," +replied Silver gravely.</p> + +<p>Albert was still on his pinnacle.</p> + +<p>"Very glad to 'elp in such a good cause, sir," he answered. "Only one +thing, if I might make so bold: I 'ope you won't forget young Jerry's +alf-dollar come Christmas. Means a lot to a little feller like that."</p> + +<p>The pair passed out into the Paddock Close.</p> + +<p>Old Mat and his missus were coming down the hill from church.</p> + +<p>The young couple strolled to meet them.</p> + +<p>"He's been making amends for what he did amiss at Liverpool, dad has," +said Mrs. Woodburn comfortably.</p> + +<p>Mat lifted a dull eye to the blue.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said. "I put a sovereign in the plate. That should square the +account, de we, accordin' to my reckonin'."</p> + +<p>He pursed his lips firmly, almost defiantly, as he looked the heavens in +the face.</p> + +<p>A sudden shyness fell on the little group.</p> + +<p>Then Boy went to her mother, lifted the old lady's veil, and kissed her.</p> + +<p>"Mother," she said.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Woodburn took Jim Silver's hand in both of hers, and kneaded it in +just the way her daughter would do in moments of deep emotion.</p> + +<p>She said nothing, but her eyes were beautiful.</p> + +<p>Old Mat swallowed, touched his hat, and looked away.</p> + +<p>"That's a little bit o' better," he muttered to himself.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>A minute later the old man was walking down the hill, Mrs. Woodburn on +his arm.</p> + +<p>The young couple strolled on up the slope.</p> + +<p>Boy looked across the Paddock Close to Joses's window.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Boam was pulling up the blind, and the sun was pouring in splendid +torrents on to the dead man within.</p> + +<p>The girl was glad.</p> + +<p>They came to the quiet church.</p> + +<p>"Shall we go in?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Let's," he answered.</p> + +<p>Together they entered the silence and stood looking up toward the Figure +in the dim east window.</p> + +<p>Mr. Haggard, in his cassock, was arranging the narcissi on the altar.</p> + +<p>As he saw them, he turned and came slowly down the aisle in the quiet.</p> + +<p>For Boy it was almost as if the Figure in the window had come to life +and was drawing near to her and Jim.</p> + + +<p class="center" style="margin-top: 5em;"><b>THE END</b></p> + + + + +<p class="center" style="margin-top: 2em;"><small>THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS GARDEN CITY, N.Y.</small></p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Boy Woodburn, by Alfred Ollivant + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BOY WOODBURN *** + +***** This file should be named 17965-h.htm or 17965-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/9/6/17965/ + +Produced by David Garcia, Graeme Mackreth and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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