The fat man nodded. He seemed to know all about it. Indeed, it was his business to know all about such things. "She was a Black Death mare, that, no question," he said, and added slowly, his eye wandering over the colt: "Looks to me like a Berserk somehow." She had a feeling he was drawing her, and kept her face inscrutable in a way that did credit to the teaching of Monkey Brand. "If so, you've drawn a lucky number," continued the other. "Such things happen, you know." Boy moved on, and was aware that he was following her. She turned and saw his face. There was no mischief in the man, and fluttering in his eyes there was that look of a hunted animal she had noticed in the Gap. She stopped at once. "What is it, Mr. Joses?" she asked. She felt that he was calling to her for help. "I beg your pardon, Miss Woodburn," he began. "Yes, Mr. Joses." Her deep voice was soft and encouraging as when she spoke to a sick creature or a child. Those who knew only the resolute girl, who went her own way with an almost fierce determination, would have been astonished at her tenderness. "That little mistake of mine on the cliff," muttered the man. A great impulse of generosity flooded the girl's heart and coloured her cheek. "That's _quite_ all right," she said. It was clear he was not satisfied. His eyes wandered over heaven and earth, never meeting hers. "You've not said anything to the police about that?" "No!" she cried. "Nor that gentleman?" "Mr. Silver?" "Yes." "I'm _sure_ he hasn't." The other drew a deep breath. "It wouldn't help me any if he had," he said. He looked up into the deep sky, that was gathering the dusk, and still alive with the song of larks. "I wouldn't like to see 'em in a cage," he said quietly. "It wasn't meant. Never!" * * * * * Next Saturday, when Mr. Silver came down, she told him of the incident. "You didn't say anything to the police, did you?" she asked anxiously. "No," he said. "I meant to, but I forgot." She repeated Joses's remark about the cage. "He's been in the cage," she said quietly. "Are you sure?" he asked. She nodded with set lips. "How d'you know?" "I saw it in his eyes." The young man was genuinely moved. "Poor beggar!" he said. CHAPTER XXII Ragamuffin The little affair of Joses was one of the many trifles that made for intimacy between the young man and the girl. In spite of herself Boy found her opposition dying away. Indeed, she could no more resist him than she could resist the elements. She might put her umbrella up, but that did not stop the rain. And if the rain chose to go on long enough, the umbrella would wear away. The choice lay with the rain and not with the umbrella. By the autumn Boy had ceased even to pretend to be unfriendly. It was no use, and she was never much good at pretending. Then with the fall of the leaves old Ragamuffin began to tumble to pieces.