. 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!"

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.

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.

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.

"Put the dog on the lead, Albert," ordered the girl, trotting back.

She and Jerry tried again, cantering past the rebel, calling and
coaxing.

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:

"I could throw you if I would, but I won't, because I like you too
much."

Monkey Brand, wise and patient, humoured him.

"Let him take his time," called Boy. "_Steady, lad, steady!_"

Old Mat watched grimly.

"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 _mischeevous_. 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 _her_ to ride
him. He don't care about nobody else when _she's_ about."

Boy had ridden back to the young horse.

"Steady him," she said quietly. "Get up alongside him, Jerry. Now try
and get him off the mark with me. All together. Now!"

The manoeuvre failed. Lollypop and Silvertail got well away, but the
young horse merely pawed the air.

Monkey Brand's face was set.

"Give me that whip, Albert," he said between his teeth.

"No," said the girl. "That's no good."

Old Mat held up his hand.

"He ain't for it," he said masterfully. "Get off him, Brand."

The little jockey glanced at his master, saw he meant business, and
slipped off the great horse, chagrin in every line of his face.

Albert, unbidden, had already gathered the reins in his hand and was
preparing to mount.

"No," said Boy authoritatively. "A