Towards this, down the grassy slope, Mr.
Rogers went with long strides.

I broke cover, and ran after him.
I ran as fast as my hurt hip and the trailing folds of the rug allowed.

The grass underfoot was grey with dew, and overhead the birds were singing.

An old horse that had been sleeping in his pasture heaved himself up and gazed at me as I went by, and either his snort of contempt or the sound of my footsteps must have struck on Mr.Rogers's ear.

He turned and allowed me to catch up with him.
"It's you, eh ?" He eyed me between pity and distrust.