"He took your horse?"
"Yes. I think he made a mistake in leaving so suddenly, but he didn't make any mistake about the best horse."
"Aren't you worried about him?" queried Mrs. Weston.
"Why, no. The boy will take care of himself. Did you happen to notice what he had in his hand when he ran across the veranda?"
"No. It happened so suddenly. Was it a pistol?"
Waring grinned. "No. It was a shoulder of lamb. The next town is thirty miles south, and no restaurants on the way."
"But his mother—" began Alice Weston.
"Yes," said Waring. "I think that leg of lamb was for dinner to-night."
Alice Weston said nothing further, but as she got ready for dinner she confessed to herself that the event of Lorry's escape would have been much more thrilling, in retrospect at least, had he chosen to wave his hasty farewell with a silken bandanna, or even a pistol. To ride off like that, waving a leg of lamb!