“Oh, Hamilton! Is it really true that the ponies have run away?” begged Emma, linking arms with the guide.
“Too true, little bird,” chuckled Hippy. “Thank you, Mr. Wingate. Being a bird is better than being a donkey,” answered Emma.
“And hop from bough to bough, and chatter and then chatter some more,” finished Hippy.
“While a donkey can only bray, and then bray some more,” was Emma’s parting shot, which brought a shout of laughter from the begrimed Overlanders.
Hippy made a gesture of helpless resignation, and turned to the guide to ask what they had better do.
“We will find the stock somewhere to the northeast, provided they have been neither burned nor drowned. Stock have an instinct that tells them to seek high ground,” said the guide. “By the way, is Miss Briggs in one of the houses resting?”
“Elfreda!” cried Nora.
The girls looked at each other with the same question in their eyes. None had seen her since the evening before, and in the excitement and confusion she had not been missed.
“Girls, girls! Run!” cried Grace. “Go to every house in the village. She must be here! She must be here! Hippy! Mr. White! Please help us.”
There was instant compliance, and half an hour later the Overlanders met in front of the post office. Grace was the only one of the party that had any information to convey. Grace had found the woman whom Miss Briggs had tried to rescue, and ascertained that the last that woman had seen of her was when Elfreda had given her a vigorous push towards the shore.