"It's the condition comin' out of her," muttered Mat. "She's all of a bubble. Fret herself into a sweat. Boy, you'd better take her. Send her along five furlongs smart and bustle her a bit as she comes up the slope." "No," said the girl. The old man threw a swift glance at her. Boy had stuck her toes in again. He knew all the symptoms of old and made no effort to overcome them. She was growing into a woman, Boy was. That was the young man. A while back she cared not a rap for all the men in creation. The old man made a mental note for reference to Ma. "Albert can ride her," said the girl. "I want to see if he's coming on." Jerry, the true prophet, winked; Stanley jobbed the black in the mouth and kicked him; Albert, his face firm and important, drew out. He had at least one of the qualities of a jockey--supreme self-confidence. "Take her along at three-quarter speed till you get round them goss-bushes," growled Old Mat. "And when you feel the hill against you shove her for a furlong. Don't ride her out. And no fancy pranks, mind." "And sit still," said the girl. "Jerry, you take him along," continued the trainer. The lads made sundry guttural noises in their throats, leaned forward as though to whisper in their horses' ears, and stole easily away. A flash of swift feet, a diminishing thunder of hooves, and the pair made a broad sweep round the gorse-clump and came racing home. Once the girl spoke. "Keep your hands quiet," she ordered deeply. Opposite them Jerry took a pull, but Albert and the mare went thundering past the watching group, the lad's fair head bowed over his horse's withers. He had her fairly extended, yet going well within herself, her head tucked into her chest. On the ridge behind them he steadied to a walk, jumped off, and led the mare, breathing deep and flinging the foam abroad, down to the party. "That's a little bit o' better," muttered the old man. "She can slip it. That lad'll ride yet, Boy." "Perhaps; but don't tell him so," said the girl sharply. She walked her pony across to the lad, and laid her hand on the mare's wet neck. "That's a little better to-day, Albert," she said. "But you ought to steady a bit before you come." The boy touched his cap and rode arrogantly on to join the other lads. Monkey Brand saw the look upon his face. "Once you knows you know nothin', you may learn somethin'," he said confidentially as the lad passed him. Then he turned with a wink to Silver and said _sotto-voce_: "They calls him Boysie when he's crossed 'em. See he apes Miss Boy. He features her a bit, and he knows it. She's teaching him to ride, and he's picked up some of her tricks. Course he ain't got her way with 'em. But he might make a tidy little 'orseman one o' these days, as I tells him, if so be he was to tumble on his head a nice few times and get the conceit knocked out of him." The lads continued their patrol.