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Updated: May 2, 2025
"What d'you take me for?" answered Joses. He poured the stuff into the bucket that Monkey held. It was dark and sweet-smelling. Four-Pound-the-Second sniffed with inflated nostrils. "Hist!" cried Monkey. "What's that?" "Somebury at the door." "The door's all right. I locked it." "He's got a key." "Who has?" "Silver." "Is he on the ramp?" "Ain't he?" snorted Monkey. "Hundred thousand and the gal."
It took him all his time to uproot it, but he did so at last. Then he glanced up. Four-Pound-the-Second had topped the brow half a mile away. Silver took the peg and began to roll up the wire leisurely. As he did so he was aware of a man standing in the gorse on the other side of the gallop watching him. Silver did not raise his eyes, but had no doubt as to the man's identity.
A quarter of an hour later the girl and the little jockey came back to the yard alone. She was carrying a halter in her hand and talking of Four-Pound-the-Second. The lads watched her surreptitiously and with brimming eyes. Albert, who prided himself on the hardness of his heart, wept and swore he hadn't. "I'll lay she feels it," blubbered Stanley, who was not clever enough to conceal his tears.
True he had a horse running, down on the card as Four-Pound-the-Second, brown gelding, five years old, green jacket and cap, ten stone; but he was an any-price outsider, only entered because for something like fifty years there had never been a National in which a Putnam horse had not played a part. And rumour had it that Four-Pound was a rum un even for Putnam's.
"If there's grief enough he might get home, though." "There's Kingfisher. The West-country crack. Bay and two white ducks." Last but one came Four-Pound-the-Second with his little fair jockey up. The horse was so big, and the jockey so small, that a laugh went up as the pair came by. "What's this in green, then?" "Old Mat's horse. Four-Pound-the-Second. Ten stun." "Anything known of him?"
"Price shorter nor ever I remember it since Cloister's year. It's a cert. for the Three J's. What about my little ride-a-cock-horse, Mr. Buckland?" The bookmaker referred to his card. "Four-Pound-the-Second," he said. "Give you forties." "Forties!" guffawed Old Mat. "A young giraffe like him, dropped this spring in the Sarah desert under a cocoanut shy.
The brown horse had swept past them, going wide of the fences for the second time round. Make-Way-There, who had been dancing on his toes away on the left as he waited for his cue, chimed in as Four-Pound-the-Second came up alongside him. He settled down to his stride at once and took the lead. The brown horse, entirely undisturbed by this new rival, held on his mighty way.
"Yes, we've learned him his lesson since he's been at Putnam's," reflected Albert. "'Ow long's he been training here then?" asked Cherry grudgingly, as he coiled the traces. "Five year I've had him now," answered Albert. "He come to me the spring afore Four-Pound-the-Second was foaled." Cherry led the old horse into the stable and put him into an empty stall. " shame I call it," he said.
Four-Pound-the-Second thundered by like a brown torrent, the stroke of his hoofs making a mighty music. "Gallops like a railway train," said a voice at Silver's side. It was Joses. The young man, lifted above himself, did not resent the other's presence at his side, did not wonder at it. Indeed, it seemed to him quite natural.
Four-Pound-the-Second had missed Jackaroo's quarters by half a length; but the big horse never faltered in his stride, charging on like a bull-buffalo, and rising at the water as the mare landed over it. The old man dropped his glasses, and settled back on his heels. "What next?" he said. "Can't do much now, I guess," answered Silver comfortably. Old Mat turned in his lips.
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