“Four-mile spin and let him spread himself,” he grunted.  “I want to see him move to-day.  And you, Jerry, ride that Lollypop out.  He’ll save himself if you’ll let him.  First time round over fences, Boy.  Then you and Jerry’ll pull out and Stanley’ll pick up the running and take him round again over the flat.  Now!”

Boy and Jerry set their horses going quietly.  The girl’s head was on her shoulder, watching if the horse she was to pace was coming along.

He was thinking about it.  Monkey Brand, handling him with the wonderful tact of a nurse with a delicate child, gathered the great horse quietly, clicking at him.  Four-Pound-the-Second broke into a reluctant canter.  Billy Bluff began to romp and bark.

The young horse had found the excuse he sought, swung away from his leader, and began to buck round in a circle, propping and plunging.

“Put the dog on the lead, Albert,” ordered the girl, trotting back.

She and Jerry tried again, cantering past the rebel, calling and coaxing.

Four-Pound-the-Second went marching round in a circle, champing at his bit, thrashing with his tail, and every now and then flinging a make-believe buck, as much as to say: 

“I could throw you if I would, but I won’t, because I like you too much.”

Monkey Brand, wise and patient, humoured him.

“Let him take his time,” called Boy. “Steady, lad, steady!”

Old Mat watched grimly.

“I thought as much,” he muttered.  “He ain’t ’alf a little rogue.  ’Tain’t temper, eether.  He’s the temper of a h’angel and the constitootion of a h’ox.  It’s that he just won’t.  For all the world like a great spoilt boy.  He’s mischeevous.  He wants to give trouble because that amooses him.  I’ve known him sulk in his gallop afore now because Billy Bluff wasn’t up here to watch him.  Where it is to-day he wants her to ride him.  He don’t care about nobody else when she’s about.”

Boy had ridden back to the young horse.

“Steady him,” she said quietly.  “Get up alongside him, Jerry.  Now try and get him off the mark with me.  All together.  Now!”

The manoeuvre failed.  Lollypop and Silvertail got well away, but the young horse merely pawed the air.

Monkey Brand’s face was set.

“Give me that whip, Albert,” he said between his teeth.

“No,” said the girl.  “That’s no good.”

Old Mat held up his hand.

“He ain’t for it,” he said masterfully.  “Get off him, Brand.”

The little jockey glanced at his master, saw he meant business, and slipped off the great horse, chagrin in every line of his face.

Albert, unbidden, had already gathered the reins in his hand and was preparing to mount.

“No,” said Boy authoritatively.  “Albert, take Silvertail.”

She slipped off the tall old mare.

Her father nodded approval.