“There’s not much risk this time—not in that way, at least. I’m only going over to the station to carry off your housekeeper.”
“And that’s what I get for my pains—not to speak of subsequent complications,” grunted the doctor. It was cool up there in his shirt-sleeves, and a recent bump made it uncomfortable for him to sit down. But there was a note of relief in his voice as he spoke.
As soon as Ørlygur had finished eating, they started on their way down. It was sunshine the first part of the way, but a little farther down they found themselves enveloped in a bank of clammy fog. At a distance, Ørlygur’s dog was magnified to the size of a calf, and well-known rocks became distorted and unrecognizable. Nevertheless, they found no difficulty in making their way down. The path was always just visible, and Ørlygur knew the track so well that he could have followed it blindfold. As they went on, the fog became thicker; the doctor’s horse was nowhere to be seen. They searched for some time without success; they could hardly see an arm’s length ahead. The saddle had been left beside the track, and this they discovered, but the horse was gone.
“We’ve always some horses in the paddock at home at this time of year,” said Ørlygur. “You can take one of ours. I’ll find yours tomorrow.”
On arriving at Borg, Ørlygur at once caught one of the horses wandering loose, and put on the doctor’s saddle.
“You’ll come indoors and have a cup of coffee before you go on?” he said to the doctor.
“Thanks, I won’t say no. And perhaps a drop of something stronger wouldn’t be amiss. But catch a couple more horses while you’re about it.”
“What for?”
The doctor turned his head away, and answered a trifle sadly:
“No need to put off that business you were speaking of till tomorrow, is there?”