“Which is north-west?”
“Hang me if I have the slightest idea! Have you?”
“No. But it does not matter. Let’s get clear away if we can, and shape our course afterwards when the sun rises.”
“Capital plan! Anything more?”
“I’ve been thinking,” answered West, “that if we turn off suddenly together the whole troop will go in pursuit at once, and then it will be the race to the swiftest.”
“Of course! It always is!”
“Oh no,” said West drily; “not always: the most cunning generally wins.”
“Very well, then we shall win, for we are more cunning than these dunder-headed Boers.”
They rode on in silence after this for a few minutes, gradually feeling that they were on level ground, over which the ponies ambled easily enough; but they could not see thirty yards in any direction.
“Look here,” said Ingleborough gruffly: “you’ve some dodge up your sleeve! What is it?”