Then, with a scramble, a jump, and a little swearing in a great many languages--I think we counted that we spoke twenty-seven between us--we were on firm soil again, and swinging along over the bit of easy level path.

It would have been out of the question to go in doolies, and no pony could keep a foothold for five minutes on the uncertain ground.
At last, as we emerged into the bright moonlight on a little platform of rock at an angle of the path, we paused.

Ram Lal, who seemed to know the way, was in front, and held up his hand to silence us; Isaacs and I kneeled down and looked over the brink.

Some two hundred feet below, on a broad strip of green bordering the steep cliffs, was picketed a small body of horse.

We could see the men squatting about in their small compact turbans and their shining accoutrements; the horses tethered at various distances on the sward, cropping so vigorously that even at that height we could hear the dull sound as they rhythmically munched the grass.