The two were Joses and Monkey Brand. He was not surprised, nor, it seemed, were they. Monkey Brand touched his hat. "Good-night, sir," he said cordially. "Good-night," said Silver coldly. "Good-night, Mr. Joses!" The tout rumbled ironically. Silver passed on into the yard, and the two were left together in the dark. "On the bubble," said Joses. "I don't wonder, eether," answered Monkey. "Four-Pound's got to win it for him." "Hundred thousand, isn't it?" said the fat man. "That is it," said Monkey. "Guv'nor won't part for less." "What's that?" asked Joses, stupefied. "Silver!" answered Monkey. "He's got to put a hundred thousand down, or he don't get her. Old man's no mug." "Don't get who?" asked the other. "Minie," shortly. The fat man absorbed the news. "Hundred thousand down," continued Monkey. "That's the contrak--writ out in red ink on parchment. It's a fortune." Joses was recovering himself. "It's nothing to what the mare'll carry all said," he mused. "American's bankin' on her to the last dollar, let alone the Three J's.... There's more in it than money, too. There's pride and sentiment, the old animosities." He added after a pause--"Half a million's a lot of money though. There'll be pickings, too--for those that deserve them." Monkey moved restlessly. "I daresay," he said irritably. "Not as it matters to me. Not as nothin' matters to me now. Work you to the bone while you can work, and scrap you when they've wore you out. It's a bloody world, as I've said afore." "Come!" cried the fat man. "The game's not up. There's more masters than one in the world!" The little man was not to be consoled. "See where it is, Mr. Joses: I'm too old to start afresh." "Have they sacked you then?" The other shook his head. "They'll keep me on till after the National. He's not everybody's 'orse, Four-Pound ain't. If they was to make a change now, he might go back on himself." The tout's breathing came a little quicker in the darkness. "D'you see to him?" "Me and Albert." "Is Albert goin' to ride him?" "Don't you believe it?" mocked the little jockey. The tout drew closer. "Who is, then?" Monkey ducked his head and patted the back of it. "Never!" cried Joses. The other raised a deprecatory hand and turned away. "You know best, o' course, Mr. Joses," he said. "You've the run o' Putnam's same as me. And you're an eddicated man from Oxford College, where they knows all there is to know." He was limping away. Joses hung on his heels. "Steady on, old sport," he said. "D'you mean that?" Monkey swung about. "See here, Mr. Joses," he whispered. "When a gal's out to win a man she'll do _funny_ things." The fat man breathed heavily. Then he began to laugh. "And it's win the National or lose the man!" he said. "Quite a romance!" CHAPTER XXXVII The Early Bird Next Sunday found Joses among the earliest and most attentive of the worshippers at church.