The Great Beast

Joses had been haunting the village off and on for some time past.

Boy Woodburn knew nothing of him except that Monkey Brand disliked him.

Herself she had been given no chance of forming an opinion till lately, when Joses had asked permission of her father to paint some of the horses.  Old Mat had given leave, and Joses had gained the entree to the stables.  He had made the most of his chance, haunting the yard, dogged by Monkey Brand, who resented his presence, watched him jealously, and made things as uncomfortable and precarious for the artist as he could.  Joses, to do him justice, stuck to his self-imposed task with astonishing pertinacity in spite of opposition.  He did not give up indeed until Flaminetta, a lengthy mare with an astonishing reach, suddenly exploded without warning and missed his head with a steel-shod heel by a short foot.

Joses tumbled backward off his stool and crawled out of danger on his hands and knees with astonishing alacrity for so gross a man.

Monkey Brand, an interested witness of the catastrophe, came limping up full of the tenderest solicitude.

“Oh, my, Mr. Joses!—­my!” he cried.  “I never knew her to do that afore. Ah, yer! what ye up to?”

Joses, still on his hands and knees, looked up at the little jockey, his eyes aghast with anger and fear.

“Ginger!” he snorted.  “You put it there.”

Monkey Brand eyed him with bland interest.

“You know a wunnerful deal about ’orses for a hartist, Mr. Joses,” he remarked, not troubling to deny the soft impeachment.

Joses got to his feet and began to talk volubly.

Monkey Brand listened in respectful silence, waving to the lads to keep in the background.

When the orator had finished, the little jockey went in to report to Old Mat.

“He knows altogether too much that Mr. Joses do,” he ended.

The trainer nodded.

“I guessed as much,” he said.  “I’ll make inquiries.”

* * * * *

Two days later Old Mat called his head-lad into the office.  He was in his socks and shut the door with precautions.

Mystery was the breath of life to both men, who were at heart but children.

“Seen Joses lately?” began the old man cautiously.

“Not since then, sir,” the other answered in the same tone.

Old Mat went to the window and drew down the blind.  There was nobody but Maudie in the yard outside, and no human being within fifty yards.  But such considerations must not come between the principal actors and the correct ritual for such occasions.

“I was over at Lewes yesterday,” he panted huskily.  “I see that tall inspector chap—­him I put on to Flaminetta for the Sefton.”

Monkey was all alert.

“What did he say, sir?”

“Not much,” muttered the other.  “Enough, though.”