His horsemanship was far better than he had expected it to be, although Olive gave him points on the management of a pony. It was an exhilarating canter along the stretch of broad, white sands, followed by a steady climb to the summit of Mohollo Head.
"Pull up for a minute, Olive," suggested Peter. "My pony is a bit winded, I think. Let's admire the view."
Quite naturally the girl fell in with the suggestion. Davis and his wife were still riding on ahead.
It was an ideal morning. The sun was still low in the eastern sky. A fresh breeze stirred the broad leaves of the coco-palms. The foam lashed itself upon the distant reef, while within the rocky barrier the water was as calm as a mill-pond.
"Isn't this topping!" exclaimed Peter, with a comprehensive sweep of his arm.
"Delightful," agreed Olive. "I shall be very sorry to have to say good-bye to Pangawani."
The girl's whole-hearted admiration gave Mostyn the looked-for opening. With sailor-like alertness he seized the opportunity.
"Then why leave Pangawani?" he asked.
Olive looked at him wonderingly.
"What do you mean, Peter?" she asked. "When do you think you will be going home?"