He handed Martha to Gilbert and beat a hasty retreat to his Land Rover. Once there he took the two cages out of the back and set them on the ground. He then gave the hens food and cleaned out the trays underneath. That done, he picked up one of the cages and carried it towards the competitors tent. Once inside, he found an empty pen, full of clean straw with a trough if fresh water. He opened the cage and let the four hens out. He put in a big bowl of food and went back to his vehicle to get the other cage. He picked it up and hurried back to the tent and let those four hens out to join their friends. They all seemed happy enough as they pecked their way around the large wooden holding pen. As he walked back to the registration area, his thoughts turned to the man who had been queuing behind him, Colin Brown. He was seventyseven years old, lived outside Aberdeen on a small croft and was ugly and as mean as a polecat! Colin had worked all his days offshore on the rigs, which were many miles off the coast of Aberdeen in the cold and desolate North sea. Working on the rigs separated the men from the boys! He was a big, powerful man who still stood six foot three inches tall at the age of seventyseven! He also liked a drink and could drink anyone under the table. He only drank single malt whisky. You didn't mess with Colin. He was a quiet man of few words. Breeding hens had always been a hobby of his since he retired from the rigs. Mr Finleyson did not think that old Bertie and Colin knew each other. He reached Gilbert who was now only two places away from the registration table. Gilbert stepped back a few steps to let Mr Finleyson into the queue in front of him. He handed Martha back to him. He then turned to Gilbert and said "Thank you Gil, I really appreciate this. I owe you one!" Gilbert replied, "Not to worry Oliver, you would do the same for me. Do you think Colin took notice that you and Martha were standing in front of him?" Mr Finleyson replied, "Even if he did, he is not the type to go telling tales to anyone." Mr Finleyson had crossed paths with Colin over the years at various shows throughout the country. Colin had never stopped to speak to him, nor had he ever said hello to Mr Finleyson. The most he had ever had from him over the years was a quick nod as he walked past him. Colin's reputation was that he was hard as nails, kept himself to himself, was a man of few words and did not mix with the other breeders. His personal life was a mystery to everyone. Colin couldn't care less if Martha had stripped old Bertie butt naked, destroying all his clothes he had worn that day. As he neared the registration table with only one man in front of him, he was unaware of the two "ringer" judges, Hilary Lumsden and Cedric Henderson, who had been hired by some of the disgruntled and jealous breeders, to make sure Martha and Mr Finleyson's other hens did not win any category nor a place. They wanted to knock Martha from the top spot, paving the way for their hens to triumph. These unscrupulous band of bete noire breeders wanted Martha to go home humiated and beaten.