"No, he ain't, Masther Jim, I wint over a bit an' had a look. There's no sign av either av thim."
"Well, I suppose we'd better go after them," Jim said. "What'll you ride, Nor? Would you care for Garryowen?"
Norah smiled at him.
"No, thanks, old man. I'll have Cirdar," she said. "Can you get him, Murty?"
"In two twos, Miss Norah," said the stockman, departing hastily.
"You're not worried, Norah, old girl?" Jim said.
"Why, not exactly; he can't hurt Bobs, of course, beyond a sore back," Norah answered. "I'm more cross than worried—it is such cheek, Jim, isn't it? All the same, I hope Cecil's all right."
"Him!" said Jim, with fine scorn. "That sort never comes to any harm. Well, hurry up, and get your habit on, old chap."
There was no need to tell Norah to hurry. She flew upstairs, Brownie plodding after; the news had flown round the house in a few moments, and there was a storm of indignation against the absent Cecil.
"If I'd knowed!" said Brownie, darkly, bringing Norah's linen coat out from the wardrobe, and seeking with vigour for a felt hat that already was on her head. "Me, givin' him tea and scones, an' talkin' about the pony, too, no less; little I guessed at the depths of him. Never mind, my dearie, Master Jim'll deal with him!"