"Only question was which way. Ye see it's most in general all ways at once with him. Up and down, day and night, all over Sussex, these weeks past. No stoppin him; no coppin him; no nothin him. Always the same chap--gentleman, mighty gay, bit o red riband in his button-hole, and blood chestnut with a white blaze between his knees. Always the same tale--gave em the go-by somehow. No sayin where or when--only just when you're least expectin him, then you can make sure of him. And when you are ready for him, seems he's readier for you." He mopped his forehead, the laughing puckers gathering about his eyes. "Look at us this evenin. There we was ridin easy up the Beacon, me and the orse-patrol--_lookin for him_. Just as we tops the brow who pops over the wall like a swallow but the Gentleman himself on his chestnut?" He threw back his head and chuckled. "There!--I can't ardly elp laughin. The cheek o the chap!" "Did he run?" asked the boy, all eyes. "Run!" snorted the riding-officer. "No run about _im_.... Rode at us like a rigiment of cavalry, swinging his sword, and laughin fit to bust himself.... Half the boys bolted--and I don't know as I blame them: they swear he's old Nick. Dick Halkett, old Job, and me, we stood it.... Bang he rides at old Job and bowls him over a buster; runs young Dick through the body; slops me over the pate a good un; and steals away down the hill, waving his hand and crying--'Adoo! adoo! adoo! remember me!'--as if we was likely to forget him!" The big man mopped his bloody ear with a quizzical grin. "I know'd it was no good follerin. Nothing foaled o mortal mare can collar that chestnut, once she's away. So I bangs my hat down, catches the old orse by the ead, and rams him down the hill for Newhaven." He began to push at the oars again. "For there's two roads to Birling Gap, my lad: one by land, and one by sea. We've missed him by land. Now we'll see what the Jack-tars can do." IV The boy said nothing. His eyes were on his ship, dim above him in the mist. She was in rags and tatters: so much he could see, and little else. Yet to him she seemed to glow in the dusk. He saw her through blurred eyes in a cloud of glory, and his heart thrilled to her. She was his ship; that ship of which he had dreamed ever since he could dream, this boy born to the sea. And was he not proud of her? Shivering like a lover, he brought up alongside; and as he did so he thrust out a hand to feel the wooden ribs which covered that heart of valour. For was she not the little _Tremendous_, of whom the heroic tales were told! CHAPTER III THE GUNNER OF THE SLOOP Swiftly and silently the _Tremendous_ spread her wings in the dusk. The riding-officer was going over the side. "Good luck, sir!" he said. "Make a cop; and Pitt'll thank you on his knees." For all answer the block-of-granite little man by the wheel turned his back.