The stuff's ready; and we don't want to waste any time.

Go ahead and see if there's anyone in that end of the stable." Two minutes later, the pair groped their way through the dense gloom, to Stall Five.

They walked with exaggerated care; though the roar of the storm would have deadened the sound of a cavalry charge.

Handing over the bowl and sponge to his assistant, Higham produced from under his coat a thick burlap bag with a drawstring at its neck.

Then, he opened the door of the box stall, a few inches and stared in.
By straining his eyes, he could just see the vague outline of the big collie.