George and Anne went with the boys to their stable. They were in pyjamas and dressing-gowns, both yawning as they went. “Got your torches?” said George. “We’re not allowed to have candles in the stables, because of the straw, you know. Good night! Sleep well! And I hope that that fathead of a Henry doesn’t come along early in the morning, whistling like a paper-boy, and wake you up!”

“Nothing will wake me up tonight, nothing at all!” said Julian, with a huge yawn. He lay down in the straw and pulled an old rug over him. “Oh, what a bed! Give me stable straw every time to sleep in!”

The girls laughed. The boys really did look very comfortable. “Sleep tight,” said Anne, and walked off with George to the house.

Soon all the lights were out everywhere. Henry was asleep and snoring as usual. She had to have a separate room, otherwise she kept everyone awake! But even so, Anne and George could hear her, snoring away - rrrumph - rrrumph! rrrumph - RRRRUMPH!

“Blow Henrietta!” said George, sleepily. “What a row she makes. Anne, she’s not to come with us when we go riding tomorrow. Do you hear, Anne?”

“Not very well,” murmured Anne, trying to open her eyes. ‘G’ night, George!’

Timmy was on George’s feet as usual. He lay snuggled there, eyes shut and ears asleep too. He got as tired as everyone else, running over the hills all day, scrabbling at scores of rabbit-holes, chasing dozens of remarkably fleet-footed rabbits. But at night he too slept like a log.

Out in the stable the two boys slept peacefully, covered by the old rug. Nearby the little skewbald horse moved restlessly, but they heard nothing. An owl came swooping over the stable, looking for mice down below. It screeched loudly, hoping to scare a mouse into sudden flight. Then it would swoop down and take it into its talons.

Not even the screech awakened the boys. They slept dreamlessly, tired out.

The door of the stable was shut and latched. Clip, the horse, suddenly stirred and looked round at the door. The latch was moving! Someone was lifting it from the outside. Clip’s pricked ears heard the sound of a little shuffle.

He watched the door. Who was coming? He hoped it was Sniffer, the boy he liked so much. Sniffer was always kind to him. He didn’t like being away from Sniffer. He listened for the sniff-sniff that always went with the little gypsy boy, but he didn’t hear it.

The door opened very slowly indeed. It gave no creak. Clip saw the night sky outside, set with stars. He made out a figure outlined against the darkness of the starry night, a black shadow.

Someone came into the stable, and whispered “Clip!”

The horse gave a little whinny. It wasn’t Sniffer’s voice. It was his father’s. Clip did not like him, he was too free with cuffs and kicks, and slashes with the whip. He lay still, wondering why the gypsy had come.