“We gave him the run, Brown Eyes,” boasted Lieutenant Wingate.
“Di—di—did you hit him?” stammered Emma.
“I reckon I hit the critter once, for I heard him grunt. We’re all right now, though. I don’t reckon he’ll be comin’ back this night.”
“Having accomplished his purpose, I do not think he will return,” replied Grace dryly.
“Eh? What’s thet you say, Mrs. Gray?” demanded Ike, sensing a deeper meaning behind Grace Harlowe’s remark.
“The ponies have disappeared, Mr. Fairweather!”
“What?” Ike’s whiskers visibly bristled.
“I said the ponies have disappeared. Look at this, will you?” she requested, extending the section of rope that she had removed from the tethering stake. “What do you make of it, sir?”
Ike Fairweather, recognizing the rope, held it close to his eyes and regarded it critically, while stroking his whiskers with his other hand.
“Thet rope has been cut!” he declared after an instant of hesitation.