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.”