They lost sight of the caravans after a time. Julian kept track of the way they went, half-afraid of being lost. He had a compass with him, and checked their direction continually. “It would never do to have to spend a night out here!” he said. “Nobody would ever find us!”

They had a magnificent lunch about half-past twelve. Really, Mrs Johnson had surpassed herself! Egg and sardine sandwiches, tomato and lettuce, ham - there seemed no end to them! Great slices of cherry cake were added too, and a large, juicy pear each.

“I like this kind of cherry cake,” said Dick, looking at his enormous slice. “The cherries have all gone to the bottom. They make a very nice last mouthful!”

“Any drinks?” said Henry, and was handed a bottle of ginger-beer. She drank it thirstily.

“Why does ginger-beer taste so nice on a picnic?” she said. “Much nicer than drinking it sitting down in a shop, even if it’s got ice in it!”

“There’s a spring or something nearby,” said Julian. “I can hear it bubbling.”

They all listened. Yes, there was a little bubbling, tinkling noise. Anne got up to trace it. She found it in a few minutes and called the others. There was a round pool, cool and blue, lying two or three feet down, and into it, from one side, fell a crystal clear spring of water, tinkling as it fell.

“One of the springs that the gypsies use, when they travel this deserted moor, I expect,” said Julian. He cupped his hands under the falling water and got his palms full. He carried the water to his mouth and sipped it.

“Delicious! Cool as an ice-box,” he said. “Taste it, Anne.”

They rode a little farther, but the moor seemed the same everywhere, heather, wiry grass, gorse, a clear spring falling into a pool or tiny stream here and there, and a few trees, mostly silver birch.

Larks sang all the time, soaring high in the air, almost too far up to see.

“Their song falls down like raindrops,” said Anne, holding out her hands as if to catch them. Henry laughed. She liked this family, and was very glad they had asked her to come out with them. She thought George was silly to have stayed at the stables.

“I think we ought to go home,” said Julian at last, looking at his watch. “We’re a good way away. Let me see now. We want to make more or less for the setting sun. Come on!”

He led the way, his horse picking its own path over the heather. The others followed. Dick stopped after a while.

“Are you sure we’re quite right, Ju? I don’t somehow feel that we are. The moor is different here, rather sandy and not so much gorse.”

Julian stopped his horse and looked round and about.

“Yes, it does look a bit different,” he said. “But yet we seem to be going in the right direction. Let’s go a bit more to the west. If only there was something on the horizon to guide us. But this moor hasn’t a thing that stands out anywhere!”