His brother was immediately behind them, a very decided frown on his boyish face, a frown of which in some occult fashion Nap must have been aware, for as they reached a stretch of turf and the crowd widened out, he turned in the saddle.
"Get on ahead, Bertie! I can't stand you riding at my heels." Bertie looked at him as if he had a retort ready, but he did not utter it.

With tightened lips he rode past and shot ahead.
Nap smiled a little.

"That young puppy is the best of the Errol bunch," he said.

"But he hasn't been licked enough.

It's not my fault.