Most welcome sound!—though it was actually Captain Henderson the ubiquitous wheeling his bicycle up the hill, knapsack of sketching materials on his back.
‘Miss Merrifield! Miss White! I trust no one is hurt!’
‘Oh no, thank you, unless it is the poor pony! Kally, sit down on the bank, I insist! Oh, I am so glad you are come!’
‘Can you sit on his head while I cut the traces?’
Gillian did that comfortable thing till released, when the pony scrambled up again, but with bleeding knees, hip, and side, though the Captain did not think any serious harm was done; but it was even more awkward at the moment that both the shafts were broken!
‘What is to be done?’ sighed Gillian. ‘Miss White can’t walk. Can I run down to the village to get something to take her home?’
‘The place did not look likely to supply any conveyance better than a rough cart,’ said their friend.
‘It is quite impossible to put the poor pony in anyhow! I don’t mind walking in the least; but you know how ill she has been.’
‘I see. Only one thing to be done,’ said the Captain, who had already turned the carriage round by the stumps of the shafts; ‘you must accept me in lieu of your pony.’
‘Oh yes, thank you!’ cried Gillian eagerly. ‘I can lead poor Bruno, and take care of your bicycle. Jump in, Kally!’