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.

"Hello there!" came the hail of MacTavish from up the course. "I
s-say, what about this blessed race? I'm f-f-rozen s-s-tiff out here.
I'm about f-f-fed up, I t-tell you."

William groaned. "As if we all weren't!" he protested. "If all the
Mess Funds for the next three weeks weren't involved I'd make the
silly fools chuck it. Here, you, run and tell Albert Edward to get a
move on."