Brant Blackett was intended by his father for an auctioneer and had been sent to a local firm in Whitby. He hated office work and was always slipping away and going out to sea on one of the fishing boats. The firm declined to have anything to do with him, and in some way or other he drifted to Middleham and took a situation in a racing stable. He was small, weighed under eight stone, and soon learned to ride well. He never rode in public but was considered as good as the best of them in getting the strength of a trial. He was recommended to the Admiral, when he wanted a private trainer, and came to Haverton, where he had been for many years. He was much attached to the family, and the place, and, like the rest of them, he was cut up over Hector Woodridge's trial. He had won many races during the time he had been at Haverton, but vowed no such flier had been in his hands as Tearaway. He was fond of the breed, and fond of the mare, and she repaid his kindness by being as obedient as a child. "She's the sweetest-tempered filly I ever handled," he said. "Her temper's just lovely. She never flares up, or misbehaves; a perfect lady, that's what she is." Everybody who saw the filly agreed with him, and in the Haverton district Tearaway was regarded as a good thing for the St. Leger. "It's a long way off to September," said Picton as he and Ben sat on their hacks and looked at her after a morning gallop. She had been two miles at a fast pace and pulled up without the slightest sign of blowing. Her glorious black coat shone like satin in the sunlight; she tossed her head proudly, looking round with intelligent eyes that took in all her surroundings. "No need to hurry her," said the trainer; "and there's nothing will happen to her, I'm sure. A sounder mare never stepped." "We have hardly anything good enough to try her," said Picton. "That's a fact," said Blackett. "It takes something out of the common to extend her." There were a dozen horses at work, some cantering, others having spins over five and six furlongs. As Picton rode back with Ben and the trainer he said: "What with one thing and another I forgot to tell you Mr. Langford is sending The Rascal here and he says I am at liberty to do what I like with him. He's a real good 'chaser, the same I won the double on at Torquay. It would be rather a joke if we won the St. Leger with Tearaway, and the National with The Rascal. I wonder if a trainer ever accomplished that feat?" said Picton, smiling. "Never heard of it," said Blackett; "but I don't see why it should not be done. We've a pretty good schooling ground here." "The Rascal is one of the best horses I have ridden over fences. He's a bit queer-tempered, but once he settles down to his work you can depend upon him to do his best," said Picton. "Then, if he'll do that, he must be a good horse no matter what his temper may be," said the trainer.