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'Um Professor?' Ace said. 'I'm just going to get something from the post office.' She dropped the rucksack at the Doctor's feet and ran off back the way she had come.

‘Been quite a time since you were here, Doctor,' the old man said.

The Doctor took a watch from his jacket pocket and flicked it open. 'Seven years as the chronometer flies,' he said. 'Any changes around here?'

'Not so you'd notice. Still the same old place, isn’t it. I suppose you'll be staying up at Hugh's.’

'Hmmm, I did leave a note for him. Somewhere in the nineteenth century, I think it was,' the Doctor mused.

'Well he's retired. Just keeps a few of those Swaledales now. The old 'Welsh Mountain breed's not good enough for him, eh?'

'Yes, quite probably. Well, it's good to see you again. I'm going to be around for a few more days.

Ace wanted to do a bit of rock-climbing and the old TARDIS and the old Time Lord need a bit of a break too.' He picked up Ace's rucksack and trailed off to the post office.

Davy picked up his pint and took a suck at it: He blew between his teeth and glanced at the Doctor s retreating back. He was an odd one all right, but no worse than your average tourist.

Stuart Taylor blinked as the sun was broken up into a glimmering mass across his windscreen. The next second, the road dipped back down again and he could see where he was going.

He had been on a farm with a cow that was down with milk fever. As he'd walked up to the animal, flies had swarmed about its head and he had wondered if he was too late. But there been a fluttering heartbeat and so he raised a vein, inserted a needle and gave the animal two bottles of calcium borogluconate.

Milk fever was common at this time of year, with calvings going on, and could quite easily be fatal.

But the treatment was so simple that the cure seemed miraculous when the cow staggered to its feet a few minutes after the administration the calcium.

As he had stood back and watched the cow lurch up the bleeper at his waist had sounded and he had asked to use the farm s phone. Liz, the receptionist back at his surgery, had told him that there was a foaling that required his attention over Llanfer Ceiriog. He had got into his car and set off straight away, declining the offer of coffee.

As. he drove through Llanfer he vaguely noticed the new addition to the scenery and he wondered whether the place really needed a police telephone box. Just through the village was narrow gravel track which led off the main road up to the stables

He pulled to a stop in front of the house, hoisted his water proof trousers up around his waist and got out of the car. Rooting around in the boot, he found his ropes and a bottle of lubricating gel and then turned and shouted to anyone who could hear him, 'Hello!'

He wandered round the side of the house into the yard. Heads appeared over stable doors and ears turned in his direction. He stood in the centre of the concrete yard and shouted again 'Hello!'

Nobody appeared and so he strolled round the boxes, looking into them. The horse he was looking for was obvious. It lay amongst its straw bedding and strained. There was no mistaking it.

At the sight of him, and despite its distress, it raised its head to watch him. It was a bay, brown with black points, and a bright white star and stripe covered the front of its face. But above the star, amongst the hair of its mane which dangled over its forelock, was a gaping hole, filled with a thick dark brown mass.

It looked as though someone had smashed a hole in the horse's head, Stuart thought. He leaned forward to get a closer look and saw that there were splinters of something still protruding from the wound. A hand fell upon his shoulder.

‘Hello, Mr Taylor. You've found her all right, eh?'

He turned round and found that the girlish voice hardly matched the stocky little Welshwoman in her tweed skirt.

'Yes, Mrs Tremayne. Now then, I'll need a bucket of hot…'

Mrs Tremayne held up a steaming bucket which she