The driver nudged his companion.
"One of 'em," he said. "Ikey's Own. Know by the cut of 'em."
"Many about?" asked Silver.
"Been all over us since Christmas," answered the other. "Cargo of 'em landed at Liverpool Bank 'oliday. All sorts. All chose for the job. Stop at nothin'. If they suspicion you they move you on or put you out. They watch her same as if she was the Queen of England. And I don't wonder. Nobody knows the millions she'll carry."
When they were well past the man at the roadside he whistled. There came an answering call from the wood in front.
As they emerged on to the open Downs, Ginger pulled up short.
"They've done us, sir," he said shortly.
A hundred yards ahead of them a sheeted chestnut was coming toward them on the grass alongside the road.
Jim Silver had only seen the Waler mare once—on the occasion of her famous victory and defeat at Aintree the previous year; but once seen Mocassin was never forgotten.
She came along at that swift, pattering walk of hers, her nose in the air, and ears twitching.