on. Two o'clock came and went. The jockeys
began to emerge from the dressing-room under the Grand Stand. Monkey
Brand and Joses watched the door.

"Where's green then?" muttered the tout, as the expected failed to show.

"'Ush!" said Monkey at his elbow.

The fat man turned.

At the far side of the Paddock, by the gate, the looked-for jockey had
appeared out of nowhere.

The green of his cap betrayed him, and the fact that old Mat was in
close conversation with him.

He wore a long racing-coat, and his collar was turned up. Indeed, apart
from his peaked cap drawn down over his eyes and his spurs, little but
coat was to be seen of him.

"Where did he spring from?" asked Joses, and began to move toward the
jockey.

His companion stayed him suddenly.

Billy Bluff, who had evaded the police, and dodged his way into the
Paddock, raced up to the jockey and began to squirm about him, half
triumphant, half ashamed.

The fat man stopped dead and stared, with his bulging eyes.

"Straight!" he cried, and smote his hands together.

The jockey cut at the dog with his whip, and then the police came up and
hunted him back into the road.

At the moment the band struck up the National Anthem, and the Knowsley
party, including the King, the American Ambassador, and Lord Milburn,
crossed the Paddock swiftly toward Lord Derby's box.

Suddenly the strains of the band were drowned by an immense roar of
cheering.

Mocassin was being led into the Paddock.

Nothing could be seen of her. Ikey's Own had formed a close-linked
phalanx about her. No Englishman might penetrate that jealous barrier or
help to form it. Within its sacred circle the mare was being stripped
and saddled.

Then there came another roar.

Chukkers was up in the star-spangled jacket.

The famous jockey sat above the heads of the crowd, and indulged in the
little piece of swagger he always permitted himself. Very deliberately
he tied the riband of his cap over the peak while the eyes of thousands
watched him. As he did so the crowd about him stirred and parted. A girl
passed through. It was the American Ambassador's daughter. She handed
the jockey a tricolour cockade, which he fixed gallantly in front of his
cap. It was clear that he was in the best of humours, for he exchanged
chaff with his admirers, adding a word to Jaggers as he gathered his
reins.

Settling in the saddle, he squeezed the mare.

She reared a little as though to gratify the desir