The trio of riders cantered north in no great hurry. Jack drew rein as they topped a hill and turned to George, who pulled up beside him. Champion’s head came around, but not to look at George, or George’s gelding. The grey stallion shifted, craning his long neck to stare past George. The movement caught Jack’s attention; he followed the horse’s gaze.

“Hold very still,” he commanded, his voice a bare murmur. Carefully, he turned in the saddle and looked back. The flash of black that had caught Champion’s attention appeared in the fields behind them, this time heading west. Then horse and rider crossed the road, still flying. Jack watched until they disappeared into the trees bordering the next field.

Only then did he relax his rein and let Champion turn. The horse came about and stared in the direction the unknown rider had taken.

A grin of diabolical delight spread over Jack’s features. “So that’s it.”

“What?” asked George. “Was that the rider again? Why aren’t we giving chase?”

“We are.” Jack set Champion back down the road, waiting until George and Matthew caught up before shifting to a canter. “But we mustn’t get too close and warn him. I’ve been wondering what gave us away. I’d wager that black is a mare. Not having been introduced to Champion here, like any other well-bred female, she gets skittish whenever he gets close.”

“Can Champion lead us to them?”

“I’ve no idea.” Jack patted the silky grey neck. “But we can’t risk getting too close until the rider dismounts.”

Kit reached the quarries as the last pony was unloaded. Noah and the others greeted her with relief.