They went on again, and then Henry gave an exclamation.

“I say! What’s this? Do come here.”

The two boys and Anne swerved over to Henry. She was now off her horse, and was bending over, scraping away at the heather.

“Look, it seems like rails, or something,” said Henry. “Very old and rusty. But they can’t be, surely?”

Everyone was now down on their knees, scraping sand and heather away. Julian sat back and considered.

“Yes, it’s rails. Old ones, as you say. But what in the world were rails laid down here for?”

“I can’t think,” said Henry. “I only caught sight of them by chance, they’re so overgrown. I couldn’t believe my eyes!”

“They must lead from somewhere to somewhere!” said Dick. “Perhaps there was a quarry, or something on the moor and they ran little engines with trucks there, to fetch the sand, and take it back to town to sell.”

“That’s about it,” said Julian. “It’s very sandy here, as we noticed. Good, fine sand. Maybe there is a quarry on the moor. Well, that way, behind us goes right out on the moor, so this way must lead back to some town or village, probably Milling Green or somewhere like that.”

“Yes. You’re right,” said Dick. “In which case, if we follow the lines along, we’ll get back to civilisation sooner or later!”

“Well, seeing that we seem to be more or less lost, that would be quite a good idea!” said Henry. She mounted her horse again and rode along the lines.

“They’re fairly easy to see!” she called. “If you ride between them, that is, because they go so straight.”

The lines ran steadily over the moor, sometimes very overgrown, and in about half an hour’s time Henry gave a cry and pointed forward. “Houses! I thought we’d soon come to some place!”

“It is Milling Green!” said Julian, as the rails came to a sudden end, and they rode out into a small cart-road.

“Well, we haven’t far to go now, to get to the stables,” said Henry, pleased. “I say, wouldn’t it be fun to follow those lines all across the moor and see where they really lead to?”

“Yes. We might do that one day,” said Julian. “Gosh, it’s getting late. I wonder how old George has been getting on today!”

They walked quickly along to the stables, thinking of George. Would she have retired to bed? Would she still be cross, or worse still, hurt and grieved? It was anybody’s guess!

Chapter Seven

George, Sniffer and Liz

George had had quite an interesting day. First she had gone down to help Captain Johnson do Clip’s leg again and bandage it up. The little skewbald stood very patiently, and George felt a sudden liking for the ugly little creature.

“Thanks, George,” said Captain Johnson, who, to her relief, had said nothing about her not having gone riding with the others. “Now would you like to come and put jumps up for the youngsters? They’re longing to do some more jumping.”