We had gone pretty well down through the luncheon basket, and had arrived at a second and even more balmy—being well-fed—period of peace, before it occurred to Miss Longmuir to look at her watch, and to spoil the best cigarette of the day with agitations concerning the non-appearance of her pony. I suggested that she and Captain Larpent should go in search of it, and for a brief interval the disturbing element was eliminated. It returned, with added agitation, in a quarter of an hour.
"Cathie! I can't find Nancy anywhere! We've been all round the course," cried Miss Longmuir from below. "And John Sullivan is nowhere to be found either, and I can't get near Lyney, he's riding in the Trotting Race."
"You'll find the pony is somewhere about all right," I said, with the optimism of combined indolence and indifference.
"That seems probable," said Andrew, "but the point is, she's somewhere where we're not."
"The point is, she ought to be here," said Miss Longmuir, with a very bright colour in her cheeks as she looked up at us.
"Heavens! They're very angry!" I murmured to Dr. Fraser.
"Well, what do you want us to do?" enquired Dr. Fraser lethargically.
"You might take some faint shadow of interest in the fact that Nancy is lost," replied Miss Longmuir.
"I think we'd better organise a search-party," said Philippa (who does not smoke).
We rose stiffly, descended from our sun-warmed boulders, and took up the White Man's Burden.