Then there were those who traced her origin to a horse from the Bombay Arab stables.  These swore they could detect the Prophet’s Thumb on the mare’s auburn neck.  The Waler School had many backers; and there were even a few cranks who suggested for the place of honour a curly-eared Kathiawar horse.  But the All-American School, dominant in the States and Southern Republic, maintained with truculence that a Spanish stallion from the Pampas was the only sire for God Almighty’s Mustang.  The wild horse theory, as it was called, appealed to popular sentiment, however remote from the fact, and helped to build the legend of the mare.  And in support of the theory, it must be said that Mocassin, in spite of her lovableness, had in her more of the jaguar than of the domestic cat, grown indolent, selfish, and fat through centuries of security and sleep.

“Wild as the wildman and sweet as the briar-rose,” was the saying they had about her in the homestead where she was bred.

* * * * *

Ikey got into his car and rolled away through the dust toward Brighton.

The other three men strolled back to the yard.

“Bar accidents, there’s only one you’ve got to fear,” said Joses.

“And that’s the Putnam horse,” put in Jaggers.

“How’s he comin’ along?” asked the jockey.

“Great guns,” the fat man replied.

“Think he’s a Berserk?” asked Jaggers.

“I know it,” said Joses.  “Stolen jump.  The stable-lads let him out on that old man for a lark.  He’s the spit of the old horse, only bigger.”

“He must be a big un then,” said Jaggers.

“He is,” Chukkers answered.  “And he’s in at ten stun.  The mare’s givin’ him a ton o’ weight.  And weight is weight at Liverpool.”

“She’ll do it,” said Jaggers confidently.  “I’ll back my Iroquois against their Berserk—­if Berserk he is.”

“He’s Berserk,” said Chukkers doggedly.  “A blind man at midnight could tell that from his fencing.  Goes at ’em like a lion.  Such a lift to him, too!  Is Monkey Brand goin’ to ride him?” he asked Joses.

“No.  Turned down.  Too old.”

“Then the lad as rode him at Lingfield will,” said Chukkers.  “Sooner him than Monkey anyway.  If Monkey couldn’t win himself he’d see I didn’t.  Ride me down and ram me.  The lad wouldn’t ’ave the nerve.  Face like a girl.”

“Monkey ain’t the only one,” muttered Joses.  “Silver’s in it, too—­up to the neck.”

When Joses left to catch his train Jaggers accompanied him across the yard.

“Yes,” he said, “if she wins there’ll be plenty for all.”

The tout hovered in the gate.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said, with emphasis. “Very glad.”

Jaggers threw up his head in that free, frank way of his.

“What, Joses?” he said.  “You’re not short?”

“Things aren’t too flush with me, Mr. Jaggers,” muttered the fat man.