"There you are, Peter. I've brought you safely up again. We're at the top now."

"Right, Sally," Peter whispered as she touched the pony's neck. "Let's be on our way." And she urged Sally into a canter now as they reached a broad grassy track. The rising sun brightened the sky over to her left and then Peter forgot everything except the thrill of this gallop in the dawn.

David had told of their route and that they planned to meet Jenny at Crown Farm just in case she wished to join them and finish the journey together, but when she left the Mynd behind she chose to make her own way.

It was when she stopped to rest Sally and was enjoying her sandwiches and flask of scalding coffee in the shelter of a big rick just inside a gate that she heard a heavy lorry coming along the road. She noticed this in particular, firstly because the road was narrow - indeed, little more than a lane - and this was the first motor vehicle she had met so far, and secondly because, although she did not know much about cars or their engines, she was quite sure that this one was making a most peculiar noise. First it seemed to bang very loudly and then to splutter. Then came a series of loud reports, and finally, after a horrible grinding, there was no sound but that of men's voices from the other side of the rick.

What happened next was so unpleasant that Peter was not sure what was the best thing to do. She was certain that the men in the lorry were annoyed and that they were quarrelling in a very nasty way. She heard the scrape of heavy boots on the roadway and the growl of ugly voices as one man snarled at the other as he strained at the starting-handle. She had just decided to walk off quietly along the inside of the hedge and not come back until the men had gone, when one of the voices was raised in surprise, and she knew that she was discovered.

"Just look at that, George!" the voice rasped. "Am I a' seeing right, or is that a pony with a saddle on? Just there by corner of the rick! Maybe we're in luck and can get a tow."

At the idea of some rough stranger laying hands on her beloved pony, Peter's courage came back and she put her fingers in her mouth and whistled. Sally had never failed to answer this summons, and almost before Peter's hand was back in her pocket the pony trotted round the corner of the rick, followed by a man who looked as nasty as his voice had sounded. He stopped and glared furiously at Peter, who stared back at him with much more bravery than she felt. The man turned his head and out of the corner of his mouth said: