Last night two telegrams had come to Cuckmere: one was to Silver from Chukkers, and the other to Joses from Jaggers. They had been written at the same moment by the same man. And the one to Joses ran--
_Make-Way-There to-morrow._
Standing under the lee of the lighthouse, seeing while himself unseen, the tout kept his eyes to his gla.s.ses.
Little escaped him. He saw the badger moving on the hillside, and watched the girl on her pony come over the crest from Putnam"s, a slight figure black against the sky. He followed her as she dropped down the hill and scampered along the valley, marked her hang her pony"s rein over the post, and disappear down the gap.
Joses closed his gla.s.ses. His face became a dirty red. It was as though the mud in him had been stirred by an obscene hand.
In a moment a slight figure in a blue gown appeared from under the cliff and entered the sea.
Shoving his gla.s.ses into his pocket, Joses began to shuffle down the hill toward the Gap. The kittiwakes flashed and swept and hovered in the blue above him. The sea shone and twinkled far beneath. A great, brown-sailed barge lolled lazily by under the cliff.
He was unaware of them, shuffling over the short, sweet-scented turf like some great human hog, snorting as he went, his eyes on that little bobbing black dot on the face of the waters beneath him.
There was no cover. The turf lifted its calm face to the naked sky. And he crept along, crouching in himself, as though fearing detection from on high.
The girl was in and out of the water again with astonishing speed. By the time the tout had reached the foot of the hill she was under the cliff again and out of sight. He peered over stealthily. There was nothing much to see but a dark blue gown spread on a rock to dry, and behind the rock the bob of a bathing cap.
The Gap was three hundred yards away. A sleepy coastguard had emerged from one of the cottages and was washing at a tub of rain water.
Where Joses stood the cliff was low, scarcely twenty feet above the beach, and was not entirely precipitous.
He pocketed his gla.s.ses and scrambled panting down to the beach.
Then he began to stalk the rock decorated with the bathing gown; and he did not look pretty.
His hot red face perspired, and he panted as he crawled.
It is hard to say what was in his heart, and better perhaps not to inquire.
One thing only stood out clearly in his mind.
He owed that girl behind the rock _two_; and Joses rarely forgot to pay his debts.
There was first the affair of the wood. He suffered pain and inconvenience still as the result of that incident, and the doctor told him that he might expect to continue to suffer it. And what mattered more, there was the sense of humiliation and the disfigurement. His nose, never a thing of beauty, was now a standing offence. The children ran from it, and Joses was genuinely fond of children. The little daughter of Mrs. Boam, his landlady, Jenny, once his friend, had now deserted him.
And there was the matter of the young man, which he found it even harder to forgive. That young man was Silver, and he was a Mug. A mug was made to be drained; and Joses had dreamed that to him would fall the draining of this singularly fine specimen of his cla.s.s. His attachment to the firm of the Three J"s, based largely on fear, was not such but that he would break it at any moment could he do so with security and profit.
He had known all about Silver long before he had turned up at Putnam"s; it was part of his business to know about such young men. Indeed, he had made an abortive, determined, and characteristically tortuous attempt to sweep the young man and his horses into Jaggers"s capacious net.
Silver indeed had hesitated awhile between the two stables. Then he had met Jaggers, and had decided at once--against Dewhurst. When the game was finally lost, and it was known that Putnam"s had come out top again in the struggle that had lasted between the two stables for thirty years, the tout changed his method but never lost sight of his ideal; yearning over the rich young man as a mother yearns over a child.
His dreams had been shattered finally in the wood a month back, and for that debacle the girl behind the rock must be held responsible.
CHAPTER XVII
Boy Sees a Vision
Joses when in liquor was wont to boast that his memory was good, and he was right upon the whole. But on this occasion he had forgotten something, and that something was Billy Bluff. Billy and Joses had met before, as Monkey Brand had pointed out to Mat, and had agreed to dislike each other. And when Joses began his stalk, Billy Bluff started on a stalk of his own.
Boy Woodburn, peeping between two rocks, watched with grim glee. Her senses, quick as those of a wild creature, had warned her long ago of the Great Beast"s approach. For Joses to imagine he could take her by surprise was as though a beery bullock believed that he could catch a lark. The girl was almost sorry for the man: his fatness, his fatuity appealed to her pity. Alert as a leopard, she was not in the least afraid of him. In the wood, true, he had caught her, but her downfall there she owed to a sprain. Here in the open, in her riding things, she could run rings about her enemy.
Lying on her face behind the rock, she watched the little drama.
Billy Bluff, wet still from the sea, his hair clinging about his ribs, and giving him the air of a heraldic griffin, crept on the puffing fat man and hurled at him with a roar.
The a.s.sault was entirely unexpected.
"You--bear!" blurted Joses, the picturesque phrase popping out of him like a cork from a heady bottle of champagne.
He struggled to his feet, picked up a stone, and slung it at the charging dog.
Billy Bluff meant business; and it was well for his enemy that the stone struck him on the fore-paw. The blow steadied, but it did not stop, the dog. He gave a little gurgle and came again on three legs in silent fury.
Joses made for the cliff, where a fall had const.i.tuted a steep ramp. He scrambled up it, an avalanche of chalk slipping away from beneath his feet and half burying the pursuing dog.
He panted up to the top of the ramp, and stood with his back to the cliff, looking down on his attacker.
Billy Bluff could not make his footing good upon the shale.
He lay at the foot of the cliff, one eye on his prey, licking his damaged paw, and swearing beneath his breath. And it was clear he did not mean to budge.
Joses turned his face to the cliff. He got his hands on the top, and lifting himself, could just peer over the edge of the cliff and see the green and the gorse beyond. Unaided, he could do no more.
Happily help was at hand.
A man on a chestnut pony was standing on the turf not twenty yards away.
"Give me a hand up, will you?" he panted. "That ---- of a dog!"
The young man approached.
"By all means," he said, in a deep, familiar voice.
It was Silver.
Joses did not mind that. He was not at all above taking a hand from an enemy in an emergency.
And young Silver seemed surprisingly kind. Big men usually were.
The young man got off his pony, came to the edge of the cliff, and gave the perspiring tout his hand. With a heave and a lurch Joses scrambled to the top.
How strong the fellow was! No horse would ever get away with _him_.