Silver sat and smoked.

There was a funny feeling at his heart.

Some vast, deep, silent-running river of Life, of whose presence within
him he had only become aware within the last few hours, had been
thwarted for the moment, thrust back upon itself, and was tugging and
tuzzling within him as it sought to pursue its majestic way toward the
Open Sea.




CHAPTER VIII

The Great Beast


Joses had been haunting the village off and on for some time past.

Boy Woodburn knew nothing of him except that Monkey Brand disliked him.

Herself she had been given no chance of forming an opinion till lately,
when Joses had asked permission of her father to paint some of the
horses. Old Mat had given leave, and Joses had gained the entrée to the
stables. He had made the most of his chance, haunting the yard, dogged
by Monkey Brand, who resented his presence, watched him jealously, and
made things as uncomfortable and precarious for the artist as he could.
Joses, to do him justice, stuck to his self-imposed task with