All Creatures Great and Small: Chapters 42–54

Farmers are normally reticent about our successful efforts for fear we might put a bit more on the bill but in these cases they cast aside all caution.

The miracle hadn’t happened easily; old John had a lifetime of grinding toil behind him that would have killed most men, a lifetime with no room for a wife or family or creature comforts, but there was more to it than that; there was a brilliant acumen in agricultural matters that had made the old man a legend in the district.

This was most pronounced on their faces where the sprinkling of white hairs, the sunken eyes and the deep cavity above the eyes gave them a truly venerable appearance.

Halfway through, he sat up, shook himself a few times then got to his feet and strolled with elaborate nonchalance out of the box. The poor fellow seemed to be hoping that perhaps we had noticed nothing unusual.

Even now I am no expert on racehorses; they form a little branch of practice all by itself, with its own stresses, its own mystique.

In my short spell in Darrowby I had had very little to do with them as Siegfried was fascinated by anything equine and usually gobbled up anything in that line which came along.

So my practical experience was negligible.

I had noticed him glancing at my old jacket and rumpled flannels, so different from the natty outfit of the typical horse vet; maybe he thought I needed the money.

In the car I felt unusually tense and for the first mile or two had to depend on some inane remarks about the weather to keep a conversation going.

The farmer whipped round in astonishment and, open-mouthed watched us as we passed, but Siegfried, retaining his aplomb to the end, inclined his head and gave a little wave before we shot back up the drive.

Harold looked crestfallen and he nodded his head gravely a few times; then he looked closely at me for a few seconds and broke into a shout of laughter.

We traversed a labyrinth of gloomy, cobwebbed passages before he led the way into a little gun room.

We traversed a labyrinth of gloomy, cobwebbed passages before he led the way into a little gun room.

Hitching the rucksack on my shoulder I felt a kind of subdued elation.

I must have looked very woebegone because suddenly his undefeated grin flashed out.