The gossip came and went about the pair. Neither heard nor indeed heeded it. The old man was easy, almost nonchalant; the young man quiet and self-contained.
The horses drew up to the right, their backs to the Grand Stand, a long, swaying line of silken jackets shimmering in the sun.
Old Mat's face became quietly radiant.
"Pretty, ain't it?" he said. "Like a bed o' toolups swaying in the wind. I wish Mar could see that. Worst o' principles, they cuts you off so much."
He raised his glasses.
"Where's Chukkers? Oh, I see. In the middle, and his buffer-hosses not too fur on eether side of him. That's lucky for Chukkers. One thing, my little baa-lamb'll take a bit o' knockin' out."
"Where is he?" asked Silver.
"Away on the right there," answered the old man. "Doin' a cake-walk on the next hoss's toes."
There was very little trouble at the post. The starter got his field away well together at the first drop of the flag.
Only one was left, and that was green.