Kit, swinging, heard the dip of oars. Another second and the boat would be round the Head, and he, hanging there, black against the white cliff, as easy to kill as a fly on a window-pane.
He reached up his left arm, swung once and again, and loosed his hold.
He flung through the air, the sea glancing sickeningly miles below, and landed on hands and knees on the green carpet.
Hallowed be Thy Name.
CHAPTER XXIV
THE CLIMB
I
"There's nowt here," called a voice from below. "A fall of the cliff belike."
The boat put back.
Kit stayed on hands and knees on the grass plateau, his forehead bowed to the ground in attitude of prayer.