Part 11 (2/2)

”I don't know,” grunted Siegfried. ”There's something very odd about that chap. I don't know where I am with him somehow.” He finished drying his hands and then his face broke into a slow smile. ”Tell you what. When we've cleared up here we'll slip out to Miles Horsley's place. It's only a ten minutes' drive and we can have a beer in the village pub. It's nearly opposite the farm. I won't be satisfied till I've had a look for myself.”

Miles Horsley was a rangy, six-foot Dalesman-a decent man but not one to cross. An advanced dairy farmer, a perfectionist. His granite features relaxed as he answered the door.

”Now then, gentlemen, we're seeing a lot o' vets this evening.”

”Ah yes, Miles,” Siegfried said airily. ”James and I were having a drink over at the Blacksmith's Arms and we thought we'd just check on your heifer.”

The farmer nodded. ”Aye, right. Come and see.” He led the way over the dark yard, opened a loose box at the far end and switched on the light.

A fine roan heifer was nibbling casually at a rackful of hay while a strapping calf sucked at her udder. On the heifer's left flank an almost perfect oblong of hair had been shaved away, and running down the middle was as neat a row of st.i.tches as I had ever seen.

”That's a good young feller you've got,” said the farmer. ”But, mind you, I wondered who was comin' when I saw that badger on his shoulder!”

Siegfried was still staring bemusedly at the operation site. ”Yes...yes, indeed.”

”Aye, very confident was t'lad,” continued the farmer. ”And I liked the way he went about the job. Careful and very clean. Brought all 'is instruments into the house and boiled them up thoroughly before he started. There'll be no infection after this job, I'll warrant. And I've got a smas.h.i.+n' calf into the bargain.”

Siegfried ran his hand over the heifer's back and rubbed the calf's head. ”I'm so pleased things have turned out well. Many thanks, Miles, for letting us have a look.”

In the Blacksmith's Arms my partner took a thoughtful pull at his gla.s.s. ”Beautifully tidy work, James, but it's a funny thing-I can't help feeling there's a catch somewhere.”

”Why, whatever do you mean? We've got a first-cla.s.s vet in the practice-that's obvious.”

”Oh, yes, so it seems. But he's very peculiar. I keep thinking about that d.a.m.n badger. And that funny big walrus moustache. And that cake! I've never seen anybody demolish an enormous b.l.o.o.d.y fruit-cake at one go-and he didn't seem to notice what he was doing.”

I laughed. ”Oh yes, I know. There's no doubt he's a very unusual young man. But he looks to me like a nice fellow-there's something very likeable about him-and he's good at the job. That's the main thing.”

”I agree, I agree.” Siegfried ran his hand through his hair and churned it about a bit. ”I'm probably worrying needlessly, but...time will tell...?

Chapter 16.

”NICE DOG,” I SAID, as I evacuated the a.n.a.l glands of the big animal on the table. He was making a grumbling sound up front, but it was good to see the waving, friendly tail even though he couldn't have been enjoying my squeezing at his bottom. ”I'm glad his tail is wagging.”

”Aye, but...” old Mrs. Coates began, but she was too late. As I moved forward to take a look at his eyes, the dog, to my astonishment, turned on me, all teeth and snarling lips, and made a ferocious grab at my face. My evasive technique has become polished over the years, but I only just avoided a nasty wound.

”Stop it, Wolfie! You naughty bad dog!” screamed the old lady. ”Just behave, or I'll give you such a smackin', that I will!”

The big animal subsided under his mistress's scolding and I took a step back out of harm's way. ”You know, this is remarkable,” I said, looking at him, wide-eyed. ”His tail is still wagging like mad and yet he's growling and showing his teeth as if he'd like to tear me to bits.”

”Aye, that's t'trouble, Mr. Herriot. He's allus givin' people the wrong impression. They think he's that good-natured when they see 'im waggin', then they get a shock.”

”Well, he certainly had me fooled, Mrs. Coates. He's the only dog I've ever seen that wags and growls at the same time. Depends which end you look at, doesn't it?”

Mrs. Coates lived in a row of council bungalows for old people. Some time after my visit I called on an elderly couple, Mr. and Mrs. Hart, farther along the same row.

Their cat, quite old like themselves, was losing its hair and going bald in places. As I parted the hair and examined the skin I could see the obvious signs of miliary eczema.

”This is a condition that often affects neutered toms like your Peter. I'll be able to clear it up with a hormone injection and a course of tablets.” Peter didn't stop purring as I inserted the needle under his skin-he was a cat who appreciated any kind of attention-but I noticed that his owners looked a little uneasy. They seemed even more unhappy when I tipped some tablets into a box and began to write the instructions.

”We're a bit worried, Mr. Herriot,” the old man said suddenly. ”This treatment will cost a bit and we can't pay you. Not today, any road.”

”That's right,” his wife broke in. ”We allus like to pay on the dot, but we 'aven't any money right now. We've been robbed.”

”Robbed?”

”Aye, unfortunately. My husband hasn't been well lately and the garden's got a bit untidy. Two men came in and said they'd do the garden up for us, but when we were talkin' to one of them here in the parlour the other 'un was in the kitchen stealin' our pension money and a bit o' ready cash we kept on the mantelpiece.”

”Well, what a dirty trick!” I said. ”But please don't worry about paying me. Any time will do. I'm really very sorry-this must have upset you terribly.” As I left the house it was difficult to believe that there were such people who would come into the homes of decent old folks and rob them of their precious few pounds. But sadly I had heard this story before. These two men had been going around Darrowby lately, getting into houses on any pretext and carrying out their despicable actions. They specialised in robbing elderly people. They weren't very brave.

A few days later I was pa.s.sing Mrs. Coates's bungalow when I thought I had better check on Wolfie. The old lady let me in and I looked at the big dog las.h.i.+ng his tail vigorously and snarling at the same time.

”He's champion,” Mrs. Coates said. ”Never shuffles round on 'is bottom now.”

”Oh, that's good,” I said. ”It's an unpleasant thing for a dog.”

She caught my arm. ”Ah've got summat else to tell you. Ah've had the thieves in!”

”Oh no, those two men? Not you, too! I'm so sorry.”

”Aye, but listen!” she said excitedly. ”One of them fellers was talkin' to me and t'other was in the kitchen with Wolfie. I heard 'im saying, 'Nice doggie, nice doggie,' then there was a terrible yell and a scuffle and the feller went past the parlour door screamin', with Wolfie hangin' on to 'is backside. The other 'un ran out, too, but Wolfie caught 'im just as he was going through the door and he didn't half holler out! Last thing I saw was the two of them runnin' for their lives down t'street with Wolfie after them.”

She reached into the corner of the fireplace and handed me a jagged piece of blood-stained cloth, obviously from the seat of a man's trousers. ”Wolfie brought that back with 'im.”

I laughed so much that I had to lean against the mantelpiece. ”Oh, what a lovely story. I bet we'll never see those two around here again.”

”Nay, nay, that we won't.” The old lady put her head in her hands and giggled. ”Eee, I can't help laughin' when I think of that feller saying, 'Nice doggie, nice doggie.' ?

”Yes, it's very funny,” I said. ”He must have been looking at the wrong end.”

Chapter 17.

NINETY PER CENT OF horses' lamenesses are in the feet. So the old saying goes and I could see it was true here.

The big Clydesdale was lifting his near hind leg, holding the quivering foot a few inches from the ground, then putting it down carefully. I had seen this sort of thing a hundred times before and it was diagnostic.

”He's got gravel,” I said to the farmer. This was the local term for an infection of the foot. It happened when the horse bruised or cracked its sole, allowing the entrance of bacteria. An abscess formed and the only cure was to pare down the horn and evacuate the pus.

This involved lifting the hoof and either resting it on your knee in the case of a hind foot or between your legs in a fore and cutting through the sole with a hoof knife. Sometimes the horn could be as hard as marble and the exact spot difficult to find and I had spent many back-breaking sessions hacking away with the horse resting his full weight on me as the sweat ran down my nose and dripped onto the hoof.

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