m all held up his hand to stay the following
traffic, or twiddled his whip with lordlier dignity than the dark lad
who sat on the shaft and drove Mary up the hill on to the course.

There for the first time young Monkey saw thoroughbred horses. They were
a revelation to the lad. He stood and gaped at their beauty.

"Don't 'alf shine neever!" he gasped. "I reck'n our Mary couldn't 'old
'em."

At the end of the week the Joes returned to Tiger Bay without their
coachman.

"Where's my Monkey then?" cried his mother.

"Stayed along o' the 'orses," young Joe answered, unharnessing.

Indeed there was but one walk in life for which the boy was fitted; and
the fates had guided him into it young.

* * * * *

It was when he was nineteen that Mat Woodburn found him out.

Monkey had been left at the post in a steeplechase. Old Mat didn't
follow the race. Instead he watched the struggle between the lad and the
young horse he was riding. Monkey gave a masterly exhibition of patience
and tact; and Mat, then in his prime and always on the look-out for
riding talent, watched it with grunts of pleasure. Monkey won the battle
and went sailing after the field he could not hope to catch, cantering
in long after the other horses had got home and gone to bed, as his
indignant owner expressed it.

"Fancy turn!" he said. "Very pretty at Islington. You don't ride for me
no more."

"Very good, sir," said Monkey, quite unperturbed.

As he left the dressing-room Mat met him.

"Lost your job, ain't you?" he said. "Care to come to me? I'm Mat
Woodburn."

Monkey grinned.

"I know you, sir," he said. "Yes, sir. Thank you. I'm there."

Thus began that curious partnership between the two men which had
endured twenty-five years.

Always master and man, the two had been singularly intimate from the
start, and increasingly so. Both had that elemental quality, somewhat
remote from civilization and its standards, which you find amongst those
who consort greatly with horses and cattle. Both were simple and
astonishingly shrewd. They loved a horse and understood him as did few:
they loved a rogue and were the match for most.

Both had a wide knowledge of human nature, especially on its seamy side,
based on a profound experience of life.

Monkey Brand had never been quite in the front rank of cross-country
riders. At no time had he emerged from the position of head-lad, nor
apparently had he wished to do so.