mick, will yer? Wot do you think this is, a Soccer match?"
The ostler returned a volley of abuse which was drowned by the whinnying of the horse, outraged by the delay in seeking his supper. Inside the building the band could be heard playing "God Save the King."
The moving shadows in the yard now became indistinguishable as darkness fell like a palpable covering overall. The rain, which had been fitful, now blew in wildly from the east, and at the same moment the roaring of the lake increased in volume, as though the elements, weary of the activities of men and beasts, had united to obliterate them.
Renny Whiteoak and the American parted, and Finch, who had been slouching behind, moved to his brother's side.
"Gosh, it's cold," mumbled the boy.
"Cold!" exclaimed his elder, in astonishment. "Why, I'm hot. The trouble with you is that you don't get enough exercise. If you'd go in for sports more, you'd get your circulation up. A foal just dropped wouldn't feel the cold to-night."
A voice called from the car which they were approaching:
"Is that you, Renny? I thought you were never coming. I'm getting beastly cold."
It was young Pheasant.
Renny got in and turned on the lights. Finch clambered in beside the girl.
"What a pair!" said Renny, letting out the clutch. "I'll need to keep you in a nest of cotton wool."
"Just the same," she persisted, "it's very bad for Baby, my getting chilled, and I've been away from him too long already. Can't you get the car started?"
"Something's gone wrong with its blasted old innards," he growled, then added hopefully: "Perhaps the engine's just a bit cold." He did various spasmodic things to the antiquated mechanism of the car, unloosing at the same time, in a concentrated undertone, the hatred of seven years. Loving and understanding horses, he was bewildered by the eccentricities of a motor.
