"On the contrary—delighted. As a matter of fact, I have to see a horse belonging to a farmer over Windyhill way, so it will be killing two birds with one stone. Now for this bad case of absentitis."
Inquiries at two blacksmiths were without satisfactory result. The third, who happened to be the man who had shod the refractory Butterfly, could only state that the last he saw of the animal was that it was scampering along Jumbles Lane, and that the trap still remained in a shed in his yard.
"Th' oughtn't ta' be much trouble to trace yon animal," concluded the smith. "A champion she were-a right down champion, mark you. They may clip her coat or dock her tail or change her colour, but 'tis her size as they can't alter. Meantimes I'll keep a look-out, master, and if I hears aught——"
"Going to report the matter to the police?" asked Entwistle, as the pair re-entered the car.
"I think not," replied Peter. "It might end in the representative of the law running in every itinerant donkey owner on sight. I think I'll enlist the services of the Press to the tune of an eighteenpenny advertisement."
Outside the newspaper offices a crowd had collected to read the latest bulletin:
"Destroyer Action in the North Sea. German torpedo-boats destroyed. British Naval Airmen rescued from sinking enemy craft."
Making his way through the throng Peter entered the office, gave in his advertisement and bought a paper.
"That's great!" he ejaculated as he read the brief report. "Billy's pals, Fuller and Kirkwood, saved by one of our destroyers. By Jove, Entwistle, who says that the British Navy is sitting tight in harbour? Whenever there's an opportunity our lads in navy blue are on it."
"Then why the deuce confine the facts to a few bald lines?" asked the vet. "The job's done properly, and a stirring story it would make! Something to buck up people at home. Instead, you have to rely upon your imagination, which is apt to let you down."