Let Sleeping Vets Lie Read online

"Nothing very exciting at the next place," I kept the triumph out of my

  voice as we drove away. "Just a bullock with a tumour on its jaw. But

  it's an interesting herd - all Galloways, and this group we're going to

  see have been wintered outside. They're the toughest animals in the

  district." Carmody nodded. Nothing I said seemed to rouse much

  enthusiasm in him. For myself this herd of untamed black cattle always

  held a certain fascination; contacts with them were always coloured by a

  degree of uncertainty - sometimes you could catch them to examine them,

  sometimes you couldn't.

  As we approached the farm I could see a bunch of about thirty bullocks

  streaming down the scrubby hillside on our right. The farm men were

  driving them down through the scattered gorse bushes and the sparse

  groups of trees to where the stone walls met in a rough V at the front.

  One of them waved to me. "We're going to try to get a rope on 'im down

  in the corner while he's among his mates. He's a wick bugger - you'd

  never get near him in t field."

  After a lot of shouting and waving and running about the bullocks were

  finally cornered and they stood in a tight, uneasy pack, their shaggy

  black polls bobbing among the steam rising from their bodies.

  "There he is! You can see the thing on his face." A man pointed to a big

  beast about the middle of the bunch and began to push his way towards

  him. My admiration for the Yorkshire farm worker rose another notch as I

  watched him squeezing between the plunging, kicking animals. "When I get

  the rope on his head you'll all have to get on t'other end - one man'll

  never hold 'im." He gasped as he fought his way forward.

  He was obviously an expert because as soon as he got within reach he

  dropped the halter on to the bullock's head with practised skill.

  "Right!" he shouted. "Give me a hand with him. We have 'im now."

  But as he spoke the beast gave a great bellow and began to charge from

  the pack. The man cried out despairingly and disappeared among the hairy

  bodies. The rope whipped free out of reach of everybody. Except Carmody.

  As the bullock shot past him he grabbed the trailing rope with a reflex

  action and hung on.

  I watched, fascinated, as man and beast careered across the field. They

  were travelling away from me towards the far slope, the animal head

  down, legs pistoning, going like a racehorse, the student also at full

  speed but very upright, both hands on the rope in front of him, a

  picture of resolution.

  The men and I were helpless spectators and we stood in a silent group as

  the beast turned left suddenly and disappeared behind a clump of low

  trees. It was gone for only a few moments but it seemed a long time and

  when it reappeared it was going faster than ever, hurtling over the turf

  like a black thunderbolt. Carmody" incredibly, was still there on the

  end of the rope and still very upright but his strides had increased to

  an impossible length till he seemed to be touching the ground only every

  twenty feet or so.

  I marvelled at his tenacity but obviously the end was near. He took a

  last few soaring, swooping steps then he was down on his face. But he

  didn't let go. The bullock, going better than ever, had turned towards

  us now, dragging the inert form apparently without effort, and I winced

  as I saw it was headed straight for a long row of cow pats.

  It was when Carmody was skidding face down through the third heap of

  muck that I suddenly began to~like him. And when he finally did have to

  release his hold and lay for a moment motionless on the grass I hurried

  over to help him up. He thanked me briefly then looked calmly across the

  field at a sight which is familiar to every veterinary surgeon - his

  patient thundering out of sight across the far horizon.

  The student was almost unrecognisable. His clothes and face were

  plastered with filth except where the saffron streaks of the Istin

  showed up like war paint, he smelt abominably, he had been bitten in the

  backside, nothing had really gone right for him all day yet he was

  curiously undefeated. I smiled to myself. It was no good judging this

  bloke by ordinary standards; I could recognise the seeds of greatness

  when I saw them.

  Carmody stayed with us for two weeks and after that first day I got on

  with him not so badly. Of course it wasn't the same relationship as with

  other students; there was always a barrier of reserve. He spent a lot of

  time squinting down the practice microscope at blood films, skin

  scrapings, milk smears, and by the end of each day he had collected a

  fresh supply of samples from the cases he had seen. He would come and

  drink a polite beer with me after an evening call but there was none of

  the giggling over the day's events as with the other young lads. I had

  the feeling always that he would rather have been writing up his case

  book and working out his findings.

  But I didn't mind. I found an interest in being in contact with a truly

  scientific mind. He was as far removed as he could be from the

  traditional studious swot - his was a cold, superior intellect and there

  was something rewarding in watching him at work.

  I didn't see Carmody again for over twenty years. I picked out his name

  in the Record when he qualified with top marks then he disappeared into

  the great world of research for a while to emerge with a Ph.D. and over

  the years he added a string of further degrees and qualifications. Every

  now and then an unintelligible article would appear in the professional

  journals under his name and it became commonplace when reading

  scientific papers to see references to what Dr. Carmody had said on the

  subject.

  When I finally did see him he was the guest of honour at a professional

  banquet, an international celebrity heavy with honours. From where I was

  Sitting at the far end of one of the side tables I listened to his

  masterly speech with a feeling of inevitability, the wide grasp of his

  subject, the brilliant exposition - I had seen it all coming those many

  years ago.

  Afterwards when we had left the tables he moved among us and I gazed

  with Something like awe at the majestic figure approaching. Carmody had

  always been big, but with the tail coat tight across the massive

  shoulders and the vast L~

  expanse of gleaming shirt front stretched over the curving abdomen he

  was almost overpowering. As he passed he stopped and looked at me.

  "It's Herriot, isn't it?"the handsome, high-coloured face still had that

  look of calm power.

  "Yes, it is. It's good to see you again."

  We shook hands. "And how is the practice at Darrowby?"

  "Oh, as usual," I replied. "Bit too busy at times. We could do with some

  help if ever you felt like it."

  Carmody nodded gravely. "I'd like that very much. It would be good for

  me."

  He was about to move on when he paused. "Perhaps you'd let me know any

  time you want a pig bled." For a moment we looked into each other's eyes

  and I saw a small flame flicker briefly in the frosty blue. Then he was

  gone.