"If we are late in keeping our appointment with Tom, he will be worrying for fear something has happened to us." "Something probably will have happened to us by that time," observed Elfreda solemnly.

"Several somethings, perhaps." After considerable milling about, after retracing their steps along the mountain rivulet, they found the trail that they were in search of, the footpath that led in the direction that they wished to go.

On either side of the path was a jungle-like tangle of shrub and vine, through which the party, riding in single file, were obliged to force their way.
So dense was the foliage that they could not see each other, but they kept up a rattling fire of conversation back and forth, much of which was directed at Hippy who was leading and doing his best to beat down a path for those who were following.
This continued for some time, until finally Hippy's mount seemed to be getting lazy, for Elfreda, who was riding directly behind the leader, bumped into his pony several times.
"Come, come, Hippy! Have you gone to sleep ?" demanded Elfreda.

"We shall never get out of the tangle at this rate." There was no reply, and when Elfreda communicated her belief to her companions that Hippy had gone to sleep on his saddle, there was much laughter.

Emma called out that, so long as the horse kept awake, they would be all right.
This condition of affairs continued for some little time, until finally Elfreda rode out into a rugged, rocky clearing and made a discovery that, for the moment, left her speechless.
Hippy Wingate's pony was browsing at tender blades of grass that were sprouting from crevices in the rocks, but its saddle was empty.
"Hippy! Oh, Hippy!" called Miss Briggs.
There was no response to her call.