and he came in very dusty and tired, and, casting himself down on a chair, exclaimed:
“I’ve done it this time. I’ve lost the Scorpion!”
“Lost her; impossible! She must be somewhere,” I answered; and visions of that wilful beast setting off on her own way home crossed my mind. I hadn’t the least doubt she would reach it, too, if no one interfered with her—she might be half-way back to Christchurch by this time!
“Well,” he went on, “I got to Kaneiri and an old fellow bothered me into going for a sail on the lake. It was a heavy old tub, and his sail was a fixture—would neither go up nor down; so he couldn’t sail against the wind, and I had to row all the way back. It was frightfully hot, and when I got back there wasn’t a sign of the Scorpion. We hunted for her everywhere, and I’ve walked back eleven miles with the saddle on my head.” He announced his intention of riding Tom over early next morning. When he got there, the old man met him with the news she had forced her way through the bush to a place some distance off, and was feeding with several other horses. They had to make a wide circuit to drive her back, but seeing Tom she gave up the game, and allowed herself to be caught without further trouble.
On another occasion she made off while Transome was bathing with her nose-bag on her head. He ran after her, but she struck into some bush, and as he had to return for his clothes, she got a long start. At last he caught sight of her standing
