West said nothing, but rode on by his companion’s side, letting his pony have a loose rein so that the sure-footed little beast could pick its way and avoid stones.
“I think that will be the best plan,” said Ingleborough, after a long pause.
Still West was silent.
“What is it?” said his companion impatiently.
“I was thinking,” was the reply.
“Well, you might say something,” continued Ingleborough, in an ill-used tone. “It would be more lively if you only gave a grunt.”
“Humph!”
It was as near an imitation as the utterer could give, and Ingleborough laughed.
“Thanks,” he said. “That’s a little more cheering. I’ve been thinking, too, that if we make this détour to the west we shall get into some rougher country, where we can lie up among the rocks of some kopje when it gets broad daylight.”
“And not go on during the day?”