Peter burst out laughing.
"We seem to be separated for life," he said. "Do look at my damned
horse!"
I looked down the water and saw the animal standing knee-deep,
nibbling grass and mud off the bank with perfect composure.
MARGOT: "I really believe Havoc would jump this brook for a third
time and then I should be by your side. What luck that you aren't
soaked to the skin; hadn't I better look out for the second
horsemen? Hounds by now will be at the sea and I confess I can't
ride your horse: does he always pull like this?"
PETER: "Yes, he catches hold a bit, but what do you mean? You rode
him beautifully. Hullo! What is that spur doing in your skirt?"
MARGOT: "I took it off the man that you call 'Hydy,' who was going
so sticky at the double when we started."
PETER: "Poor old Clarendon! I advise you to keep his spur, he'll
never guess who took it; and, if I know anything about him, there
will be no love lost between you even if you do return it to him!"
I was longing for another horse, as I could not bear the idea of
going home. At that moment a single file of second horse-men came
in sight; and Peter's well-trained servant, on a thoroughbred
grey, rode up to us at the conventional trot. Peter lit a cigar
and, pointing to the brook, said to his man:
"Go off and get a rope and hang that brute! Or haul him out, will
you? And give me my lunch."
We were miles away from any human habitation and I felt depressed.
"Perhaps I had better ride home with your man," said I, looking
tentatively at Peter.
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