lbert, take Silvertail."

She slipped off the tall old mare.

Her father nodded approval.

"She's right," he muttered. "Never do to try Albert when Brand has
failed."

"Chuck me up, Brand," said the girl.

The little jockey turned.

"Yes, Miss."

The girl had broken the blow for him, and he tossed her into the saddle
with a will.

She sat up there on the great horse, ordering her reins with masterful
delicacy.

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:

"You've got a lot in front of you."

"It's like a glacier," replied Boy.

"She could slide on that shoulder," commented Old Mat. "Like Napoleon on
the Pyramids."

The young horse began to sidle and plunge.

"Right!" said Boy. "Stand clear!"

The little jockey jumped aside, and mounted Silvertail.

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.

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.

Old Mat nodded and said to himself: "Where it is, is there it is."

Nobody else spoke.

Boy, in her white shirt, her hair radiant against the dull heavens,
began to feel at her horse's mouth.

Monkey Brand and Jerry watched her closely.

"Keep walking in front of me," called the girl sharply. "And move with
me."

Both obeyed, eyeing the girl over their shoulders, and slowly gathering
way.

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.

"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."

The three rose at the first fence all together, the white shirt
sandwiched between the dark jackets.

Jim Silver felt a thrill at his heart. That thunder of hoofs moved him
to his deeps.

"Gallops very wide behind," he remarked casually.

"That's Berserk, that is," muttered the old man, adjusting his glasses.
"Chucks the mud about a treat, don't he?"

Billy Bluff was straining on his lead, whimper