The colt was fresh, and galloped like mad, and soon went round the common and back again; and as he was galloping by, the Piskey once more shouted to the little Night-riders to stop, but they took no heed, and once more flew by like the wind.
Ever so many times the colt galloped round the sandy common, leaping over the hillocks in his mad gallop, and each time he passed, the little Piskey stood out in the moonshine and called out, but the Night-riders took not the slightest notice, nor pulled up the colt to see what he wanted.
At last, when the Piskey had given up all hope of the Night-riders stopping, the colt, who was quite worn out with galloping so hard round and round the broken common, put his foot into a rabbit-hole and came down with a crash, with his many little riders on top of him.
One little Night-rider, who happened to be astride the colt’s left ear, was pitched off at the Piskey’s feet.
He looked as bright as a robin in his little red riding-coat, brown leggings, and his bright green cap with a wren’s feather stuck in its front.
When he had picked himself up, he thrust his tiny brown hands into his breeches pocket, stared hard at the little Piskey, and cried:
‘What wisht little beggar are you?’
‘I am a poor little chap who has lost his laugh,’ answered the Piskey. ‘I shouted every time you galloped the colt past here to ask if you had seen it, but you never stopped.’
‘Of course we did not stop galloping because a Piskey called,’ said the little Night-rider. ‘How came you to be such a gawk as to lose your laugh?’
‘I have no idea,’ the Piskey returned. ‘I only know it went away all of a sudden, and I have been searching for it ever since. Have you seen my little lost laugh?’