rt 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.

Then she spoke.

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.

"Good morning, Mr. Joses," said the voice, and that was all; but it
wrought a miracle.

"Yes," growled the man in the wayside, "it wasn't you: it was Silver."

The young man's face flashed white. He pulled up instantaneously.

"What's that?" he said.

Boy, riding on, called sharply over her shoulder:

"Come on, Mr. Silver!"

Reluctant as a dog to leave an enemy, the young man obeyed, and caught
up the other two.

"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."

CHAPTER XXXIII

The Gallop

On the Mare's Back a little group was awaiting the party.

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.

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.

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.

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.

The course was two miles round, running along the top of the hill over
fences that looked stark and formidable in the gray.

"Strip him," grunted Old Mat.

Albert and Monkey Brand went swiftly to work.

A great brown horse, gaunt and ugly as a mountain-goat, emerged. His
legs were like palings; his