Boy shot ahead, Silver took a pull. Banjo made a fuss, took offence, then went striding hugely by, and shied off, splashing through a puddle. The brown waters rose and drenched the pedestrian. "Thank _you!_" he called furiously after the horseman. Banjo, as though frightened at his deed, tried a bolt. A horseman of unusual power, Silver steadied the great horse and swung him across the road. There Banjo sidled, yawed, and passaged, fretting to be after the brown. The young man, swinging to the motions of the tossing gray, raised his hand in that large and gracious way of his. "So sorry," he shouted back. The man with the gamp shuffled toward him. "Of course it wasn't deliberate!" he cried. It was Silver's turn to be angry. He gripped the gray, lifted him round like a polo pony, and drove him back to the angry man. "You don't think I'd do a thing like that on purpose!" he said, and saw for the first time that the man with the gamp was Joses. "You didn't know it was me, of course," sneered the other, shaking with anger. "I did not," replied Silver, calm and cold as Joses was hot. "Then I don't believe you," cried the tout. Silver looked down at him. "I've said I'm sorry. I've no more to say," he remarked quietly. "Haven't you?" cried the fat man. "I have, though." He made a snatch at Banjo's rein. The gray reared, backed away into the ditch, collapsed there on his quarters, and recovered himself with the grunt and flounder of a hippopotamus emerging from a river. A little crowd was collecting swiftly, drawn by the hopes of a row. Then there came the clatter of a horse's feet. Boy was coming back to the group at a gallop. "I saw what happened," she said, her deep voice a little sharp. "Your horse shied and splashed Mr. Joses." She appealed swiftly to him. "Wasn't that it?" "Yes," said Silver coldly. "I splashed him by accident and apologised." "_And he turned nasty!_" The intervening voice was harsh and unfamiliar. Silver turned to see a tall inspector of police sitting like a pillar of salt in a dog-cart, which had drawn up in the road. Joses, who had seen him, too, began to shake, and more horrible still to laugh. "He was naturally a bit annoyed," said Silver. The tall inspector was looking Joses up and down. There was a dreadful air of domination about him. "If you're satisfied, sir, I say no more," said the inspector, reluctant as a dog to leave a bone. "I'm satisfied," replied Silver. The inspector withdrew. The little knot of people who had gathered began to disperse. The young man and the girl trotted on their way. "Most unfortunate," muttered Silver. "Most," Boy answered. In Joses's eyes she had seen again that look of the wild beast, caged and cowering. The young man felt censure in her voice. "Well, I don't think it was my fault," he said, nettled. "I know it wasn't," she cried. "But--" "What?" "That inspector's way with him. Like a slavedriver." "I know," said Silver. "Horrible." CHAPTER XXV