inging 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.

"Pull at ye?" asked the old man.

"He caught hold a bit as we came up the slope," answered Boy.

Jim Silver had dismounted and laid a hand on the horse's shining neck.

"Great," he said.

The faint colour was in the girl's cheeks, and she was breathing deep as
she peeped up at him with happy eyes.

"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."

She put on her long coat and mounted Silvertail.

"Yes, don't stand about," said her father; "or you'll have Mar on to
me."

The three moved off the hill.

Stanley had already gone on with Make-Way-There, and Albert followed
with the young horse still snorting and blowing.

Billy Bluff patrolled between his mistress and his friend, doing his
best to keep the two parties together.

Monkey Brand was left alone.

"Took it 'ard!" muttered Old Mat, jerking his head.

"He'll be all right," said Boy, glancing back. "Give him time to get his
second wind."

The little jockey went back to pick up a plate Make-Way-There had
dropped.

Joses strolled up to him with portentous brow.

"Turned you down!" he said. "You're not horseman enough for them, it
seems."

The little man gathered himself. He was very grim, curling his lips
inward and whistling between his teeth as though to relieve inward
pressure.

"How long have you ridden for 'em?" asked the fat man.

"Twenty-five year," the other answered, with the quiet of one labouring
under a great emotion.

The other rumbled out his ironical laughter.

"And now they chuck you," he said. "Too old at forty. What?"

The little man spat on the ground.

"Blast 'em," he said. "Blast you. Blast the lot. It's a bloody world."

CHAPTER XXXIV

The Lovers' Quarrel

Boy did not appear at dinner.

The midday meal, especially on Sunday, she generally skipped.

Old Mat, Ma, and Silver lunched together and in silence.

The old trainer was absorbed in himself, and there was no question that
he found himself e