"Pull up." West obeyed, and their ponies began to nibble the herbage.
"Now listen: can you hear anything ?" West was silent for nearly a minute, passed in straining his ears to catch the slightest sound.
"Nothing," he said at last.
"Nothing," said his companion.

"Let's jump down!" West followed his companion's example, and swung himself out of the saddle.
"Now get between the nags' heads and hold them still.

You and they will form three sides of a square: I'm going to be the fourth." "What for ?" "To light a match." "Oh, don't stop to smoke now," said West reproachfully.

"Let's get on." "Who's going to smoke, old Jump-at-conclusions?
I'm going to carry out our plan." _Scratch_! and a match blazed up, revealing Ingleborough's face as he bent down over it to examine something bright held in one hand-- something he tried to keep steady till the match burned close to his fingers and was crushed out.
"Horses' heads are now pointing due north," he said.

"Keep where you are till I'm mounted.