er know."

"He takes his gruel all right," admitted the other surlily,
unharnessing.

"Yes, we've learned him his lesson since he's been at Putnam's,"
reflected Albert.

"'Ow long's he been training here then?" asked Cherry grudgingly, as he
coiled the traces.

"Five year I've had him now," answered Albert. "He come to me the spring
afore Four-Pound-the-Second was foaled."

Cherry led the old horse into the stable and put him into an empty
stall.

"---- shame I call it," he said. "A nice feller like that."

Albert watched him with folded arms.

"I would, too," he said, "only it's Sunday, and Mar might hear."

Cherry smirked.

"Why ain't you at Bible Class then?" he asked grimly.

The Bible Class at Putnam's was a standing joke along the South Downs
from Arunvale to Beachy Head.

Albert swaggered.

"I'm not takin' it this morning," he said. "I'm givin 'em a serees of
addresses on the 'Igher Life when the jumpin' season's over."

The little ostler looked at his watch.

"You'd better step it," he said, "you and your Hired Life. It's past
eleben and the bells have stopped. If you ain't there before her, you'll
get the stick, you will."

Albert moved slowly up the gangway behind the loose-boxes, unheeding the
other's taunts.

"I reck'n they've took a couple o' million off of him since Christmas,"
he said, returning to the subject which he could not leave. "And I got
to get it back for him."

"Indeed?" said Cherry ironically. "'Ow? Tellin' lies and gettin' paid
for 'em?"

Albert opened the door of a loose-box and pointed dramatically.

Cherry stared at the brown horse within.

Albert whistled softly and the horse turned his long neck and gazed at
them with wise and quizzical eye. "Ain't he a big un?" cried Cherry, the
note of irony dropping from his voice in spite of himself.

Billy Bluff, who had been curled under the manger, came across the
loose-box and sniffed the little ostler friendly.

"'Ullo, Billy!" said the old man. "Do you sleep in here?"

"Won't sleep nowhere else," answered Albert. "And what's more, Four
Pound won't sleep unless his pal's with him. They've always had this
loose-box atween 'em from the start. Miss Boy used to sleep in here,
too, when he was a foal." The youth dropped his swank, and became
confidential and keen. "Wonderful close friends, them two, you wouldn't
believe. Four Pound had a cracked heel last autumn, and I used to
bandage him at nights. He didn't like the