inspired the English-speaking race for
the past year, had not left him untouched. Jim Silver felt the little
prosaic man thrilling at his side, and thrilled in his turn. He felt as
he had felt when as a Lower Boy at Eton the Captain of the Boats had
spoken to him--a swimming in the eyes, a brimming of the heart, a
gulping at the throat.

"Is that Mocassin?" he called to the lad riding the mare.

"That's the Queen o' Kentucky, sir," replied the other cockily. "Never
was beaten, and never will be--given fair play."

"Done your gallop?"

"Half an hour since."

Ginger drove on discreetly.

On a knoll, three hundred yards away, four men were standing.

"There they are!" said Ginger. "Pretty, ain't they?--specially Chukkers.
I don't know who that fat feller is along of 'em."

But Silver knew very well.

CHAPTER XXXIX

The Queen of Kentucky

The little group on the knoll came off the grass on to the road, close
in talk.

Jaggers was tall and attenuated. He had the look of a self-righteous
ascetic, and dressed with puritanical austerity. No smile ever
irradiated his gaunt face and remorseless eyes. His forehead was
unusually high and white; his manners high, too; and if his morals were
not white, his cravat, that was like a parson's, more than made up for
the defect. It was not surprising then that among the fraternity he was
known as His Reverence, because his bearing gave the impression of a
Nonconformist Minister about to conduct a teetotal campaign.

Chukkers, who was wearing the familiar jodhpores which he always
affected, was quite a different type. A big man for a jockey, he rarely
rode under eleven stone, though he carried never an ounce of flesh.
Sporting journalists were in the habit of referring to him as a Samson
in the saddle, so large of bone and square of build was he. His success,
indeed, was largely due to his extraordinary strength. It was said that
once in a moment of temper he had crushed a horse's ribs in, while it
was an undeniable fact that he could make a horse squeal by the pressure
of his legs.

He was clearly a Mongol, some said a Chinaman by origin; and certainly
his great bowed shins, his dirty complexion, his high cheek-bones, and
that impassive Oriental face of his, gave authority to the legend. When
you met him you marked at once that his eyes were reluctant to catch
yours; and when they did you saw two little gashes opening on
sullen-twinkling muddy waters.

The wor