ed. "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!"

They topped the brow. The crest of the Downs swelled away before them
like a great green carpet lifted by the wind.

"There they are!" cried Boy, beginning to canter.

CHAPTER XIX

Cannibal's National

Old Mat sat dumped in familiar attitude on a cob as full of corners and
character as himself.

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.

He glanced shrewdly at the pair as they rode up.

"Good morning, sir," he said, touching his hat. "So Chukkers has chucked
you."

"So I believe," answered Silver.

"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."

Silver nodded.

"I'm not altogether sorry," he said quietly. "And I'm not entirely
surprised."

"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."

He raised his voice and began to thump the air with his fist.

"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!"

* * * * *

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.

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