Ponies and Mysteries

She stopped. She was addressing thin air- or rather, thick air, as the mist was now quite dense. Spot had vanished! This was too much. She pictured her trusting pony, lame and far from home, wandering across the barren moor, to be seized, perhaps, by gypsies who would sell him, or else to join a moorland herd and go wild. 'Spot-Spot!' she called, and made the funny horse-noises he liked, as she turned this way and that. But there came no answering neigh, and soon she realized that an even worse catastrophe had befallen her! She was now lost herself. (From the back cover.)