Chapter 32

Jim Silver Goes To War

Boy was muddy, and her hat was dented and askew. The little creature looked strangely pathetic as she stood up alongside tall Lollypop with the slimy flank.

"I'll get on again now," she said, gathering her reins. "Put me up, will you?"

"No," answered Silver.

The tears sprang to the girl's eyes.

"Why not?" she asked fretfully, but for the first time since they had met she submitted to his will.

Jim took Lollypop's rein and led both horses slowly toward the farm among apple trees at the end of the field.

Boy walked at his side.

"It's silly to feel so funny," she laughed feebly.

"Take my arm," he said; but she refused.

They came to the gate of the farm.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"In here."

He gave a shout.

A woman in a sunbonnet came to the door and stared.

"Is that you, Miss Woodburn?" she cried. "Oh! _dear_ me!"

"Hullo, Mrs. Ticehurst," said the girl. "I've had a bit of a spill."

"Can Miss Woodburn come in and rest for a moment?" asked Silver.

"Come in and rest!" cried the woman. "Hark to him! Think I'd turn a dog away like that--let alone Miss Joyce."

"Such a fuss!" protested the girl.

The woman called to a yokel to come and take the horses.

Languidly the girl walked down the paved path between rank currant bushes, and entered the house.

"Here in the parlour, Miss!" said the woman, kind and bustling.

"I'd rather the kitchen, please," said Boy. "Cosier there."

"Very well, my dear. There's a fire there. And I'll get you a cup o' tea."

When Silver entered the house a little later he saw the girl comfortably established by the fire.

He peeped in and withdrew quietly.

"I'll be back in a minute," he said quietly to the woman. "I'm just going to have a look at the horses."

In the yard he found the yokel trying in vain to induce Banjo to enter a door that was too small for him.

"All right," said the young man. "He won't fit."

Mounting, he rode out into the field.

Banjo knew his master meant business directly he was in the saddle, and answered instantaneously to the call, dropping the nonsense, and settling down to work sober as a bishop.

The yokel watched the pair with admiration.

There was such power about them both.

The big man cantered across the field, put the gray at the fence, and cleared it without an effort.

There was a slight drop into a bridle-lane.

The man on the gray turned and cantered quietly along it.

He jumped a low heave-gate and followed the track beyond. In the next field he saw his quarry, hunting along at a little dog-trot.

Joses seemed to have no fear of pursuit.

Jim Silver stole up behind him, Banjo, as though entering into the spirit of the pursuit, seeming to muffle the sound of his going.

A hundred yards from his quarry the young man came with a rattle. Joses turned, but it was too late.

The lash curled round his plump carcase.

Silver swept on like a hailstorm, and pulled Banjo up on his haunches.

Then he sat with white face and shining eyes, trailing his lash as he waited the assault.

He had not long to wait.

* * * * *

Boy sat by the fire in the kitchen and drank her tea, an alert little figure, her burnished hair neatly coiled, and hat beside her.

It was clear she was entirely herself again.

Then Silver stood in the door and smiled at her. He was very quiet and rather pale.

The girl looked up at him suspiciously.

"Where've you been?" she asked.

"With the horses," he answered.

She was not to be deceived.

"You've been having a hunt of your own," she said. "I hope you didn't find."

He looked out of the window evasively.

"Scent poor to bad," he said slowly.

By the time they mounted it was late in the afternoon, and the glory had departed from the day.

They climbed the Downs, and rode along the tops of them, their faces to the sea, speaking hardly at all, and walking all the while.

This sudden and surprising contact with evil had taken the joy from their hearts and oppressed them like a shadow.

Once as they drew near home he spoke.

"How are you?" he said.

"I'm all right," she answered, and added, lifting her face to his in that frank and beautiful way of hers, "I don't think he meant it for me."

"I'm not sure," replied Silver.

"I think he meant it for you," continued Boy.

"If so I should think a shade better of him," replied the other stubbornly.

"I'm glad you didn't catch him," said the girl. She turned full face to him. "You _were_ angry."

"I _was_ a bit put out, I think," answered the other.

They dropped down the hill into the Paddock Close, graying faintly in the dusk.

Boy's high spirits were pouring back on her in merry little rivulets, all the readier to brim their banks for having been dammed so long.

"Come and see Four-Pound-the-Second," she cried, and led away along the hillside at a trot.

"How's he coming on?" asked the young man, jogging at her side, delighting in her returning life.

"Father thinks he's going to be a great horse," laughed the girl. "But he won't admit it to me, of course."

"So he is, plea Gob," said Jim.

Boy looked at him severely. Then she tapped him with her crop.

"He may," she said. "You mayn't. And you mustn't mimic dad."

He touched his forehead.

At the Bottom, not far from the place where the old mare had died, a rough thatched shed of tarred sleepers had been run up for the colt.

"There he is!" said the girl. "By the wood," and called him.

The yearling came, trotting proudly at first, and then breaking into an ungainly gallop. A gawky creature, with a coat like a bear's, he moved with the awkward grace of a puppy, slithering and slipping in the mud, yet always recovering himself with surprising speed and precision.

Boy dismounted, and Silver followed her example.

She held out her hand toward the colt.

"Come on, the boy!" she cooed. "Billy Bluff's not here to rag you."

The colt came delicately with outstretched neck and wide nostrils, fearing for his liberty, yet poking out his nose toward the extended palm on which there lay a piece of bread.

"Looks as if he might make into something, don't you think?" said the girl. "Lots of bone."

"What colour's he going to be?" asked the young man.

"Black-brown with bay points. Black-and-tan, mother calls him."

"Black-and-tan," said the young man. "That's Berserk, isn't it?"

"I believe so," replied the girl.

"Is that sure?" asked the young man.

"Father seems to think so," replied Boy evasively. "Monkey Brand met the gypsy afterward, who pitched him a tale."

"Who's he belong to?" asked the young man.

"Me, of course," laughed Boy.

"I'll go shares with you!" said Silver. "Halve expenses and winnings. There's an offer now!"

"Right," she cried.

They shook hands with laughter, and led their horses across the Close.

The girl edged off to the right.

"We'll look in on old Ragamuffin," she said. "I always used to give him an apple on my birthday."

As they put the wood between them and the Bottom, a man who had been lying in the shelter out of the wind came to the door and called to the colt.

"Whoa, little man!" he said. "Whoa then!"