The horse had not yet made his appearance on the brow.
Bending over a peg, and bowing his back, the young man heaved, twisted, and lurched. It took him all his time to uproot it, but he did so at last.
Then he glanced up.
Four-Pound-the-Second had topped the brow half a mile away.
Silver took the peg and began to roll up the wire leisurely. As he did so he was aware of a man standing in the gorse on the other side of the gallop watching him. Silver did not raise his eyes, but had no doubt as to the man's identity.
It was the other who opened the conversation, coming out of the gorse on to the track.
"That's an ugly bit of wire," he said. "Now how did that get there, I wonder?"
"Spider spun it, I guess," answered the young man laconically.
"What!" laughed the other. "Gossamer is it?"
"Yes," said Silver. "And not bad gossamer at that." He looked up suddenly. "Where did you get it from?—the same place you bought the mallet in Brighton?"