"Sounds to me as if somebody had found a watery grave over to the
left," said the Babe.
"Sounds to me as if somebody had returned to stables over to the
right," said I.
We trotted away to investigate. 'Twas as I thought; Ferdinand had
homed to his Isabella and was backing round the standings once more,
trailing the infuriated Albert Edward after him, sheets of corrugated
iron falling about them like leaves in Vallombrosa.
"Bolted straight in here and scraped me off against the roof," panted
the latter. "Suppose the confounded apple-fancier won ages ago, didn't
he?"
"He's upside down in the Tuning Fork trench system at the present
moment," said I. "The Babe and the grooms are digging him out. If you
hurry up you'll win yet."
We roused out the guard, bore the reluctant Ferdinand back to the
course and by eleven o'clock had restarted him. At 11.10 William
returned to report that the digging party had salved the Cazenove pair
and got them going again.
"Too late," said I; "Albert Edward must have won in a walk by now. He
left here at..."
The resounding clatter of falling sheet-iron cut short my words.
Ferdinand had, it appeared, returned to stables once more.
Suddenly something hurtled out of the gloom and crashed into us. It
was the Babe.
"What's the matter now? Where are you going?" we asked.
"Wire-cutters, quick!" he gasped and hurtled onwards towards the
saddle-room.
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