Monkey Brand and Silver kept together.  In front of them Boy Woodburn and
Albert Edward rode side by side.

Viewed from the rear, they were ridiculously alike in shape and size and bearing.

The little jockey pointed out the resemblance to his companion.  He clucked and winked and joggled with his elbow.

“Not much atween ’em seen from behind, sir,” he said.

“How’s he coming on?” asked Silver.

“Why, not bad, sir,” replied the jockey.  “He’s the pick of our bunch anyway.  If he wasn’t so puffed up wiv himself, he’d do.”

“I saw he did Chukkers down at Sandown in the International,” said the young man.

“He did, sir.  He did so,” replied the little man.  “One more up to Putnam’s, that was.”  And he gave the story of how the Putnam’s lad had beaten the crack in the big race.

It seemed that Chukkers, who was riding Jackaroo for Ikey Aaronsohnn, had thought he was well through, and was sitting down to idle home, when two fences from the finish Albert Edward, riding an any-price outsider, came up on his right out of the blue and challenged the star-spangled jacket.

Chukkers, who was on the favourite, with orders to win, had drawn his whip and ridden for his life.

“’E could draw whip and draw blood, too,” chuckled Monkey Brand.  “But it weren’t no manner o’ good.  Took up his whip and stopped his ’orse.  Albert, ’e never stir.  Sat there and goes cluck-cluck and got home on the post.  Rode a pretty race, he did.  Miss Boy was ever so please.”

“And what about Chukkers?” asked Jim.

Monkey Brand sniggered.

“He was foamin’-mad, bloody-yellin’ all over the place.  I was glad Mrs. Woodburn wasn’t there to hear.  Jaggers had him out on the mat afore ’em all.  Said he’d been caught nappin’—­by a boy with a face like a girl, too.  Putnam ‘orse and all.  That got ole Chukkers’ tail up.  He made trouble in the weighin’-room.  Said Albert had done him a dirty dish; but you can’t go to the Stewards on that.  And Albert he told Miss Boy—­’I never done nothin’ to him, only beat him.’  And he told the truth that time if he never told it afore.  ‘Never you mind,’ says Miss Boy.  ’You won and you’ll win again—­if your head don’t get so swelled you can’t get the weight.  We all know Chukkers,’ says she, ‘and Jaggers, too.’”

* * * * *

The last day was never taken very seriously by the regular followers of the Duke’s hounds.  All those to whom hunting was the one worthy occupation in life kept religiously aloof.

“It’s the people’s day,” they said.  “They don’t want us.”

To-day was no exception to the rule.

Before lunch hounds chopped a mangy fox outside Prior’s Wood; and it was not till the afternoon was getting on that they found a rover lying out in a field of mangolds.

He must have been a hill-fox, who had been caught raiding in the lowlands, for he made a straight point for the Downs.