were
drunk, and, aided by Marigold, described a series of ghastly
half-circles. At last he performed various convulsive feats of
jugglery, with the result that the car, which was nosing steadily for
the ditch, came to a stand-still. Then Marigold informed me in
unemotional tones that the steering gear had gone.

"It's all the fault of that there dog," said he, twisting his head so
as to glare at the little beast, who, after a yelp and a bound, had
calmly recaptured his position and resumed his interrupted occupation.

"It's all the fault of that there Marigold," I retorted, "who can't see
the sense of using studded tyres on a greasy surface. What's to be done
now?"

Marigold thrust his hand beneath his wig and scratched his head. He
didn't exactly know. He got out and stared intently at the car. If mind
could have triumphed over matter, the steering gear would have become
disfractured. But the good Marigold's mind was not powerful enough. He
gave up the contest and looked at me and the situation. There we were,
broadside on to the narrow road, and only manhandling could bring us
round to a position of safety by the side. He was for trying it there
and then; but I objected, having no desire to be slithered into the
ditch.

"I would just as soon," said I, "ride a giraffe shod with roller
skates."

He didn't even smile. He turned his one reproachful eye on me. What was
to be done? I told him. We must wait for assistance. When I had been
transferred into the vehicle of a passing Samaritan, it was time enough
for the manhandling.

Fate brought the Samaritan very quickly. A car coming from Godbury
tooted violently, then slowed down, stopped, and from it jumped Leonard
Boyce. As he was to rescue me from a position of peculiar helplessness,
I regarded his great khaki-clad figure as that of a ministering angel.
I beamed on him.

"Hallo! What's the matter?" he asked cheerily.

I explained. Being merciful, I spared Marigold and threw the blame on
the dog and on the County Council for allowing the roads to get into
such a filthy condition.

"That's all right," said Boyce. "We'll soon fix you up. First we'll get
you into my car. Then Marigold and I will slue this one round, and then
we'll send him a tow."

Marigold nodded and approached to lift me out.

Then, what happened next, happened in the flash of a few breathless
seconds. There was the dull thud of hoofs. A scared bay thoroughbred,
coming from Godbury, gallop