This he did, and shudderingly she peered over. From where they stood the cliff fell for about twenty feet obliquely, but very steep, and grown over with tufts of grass, to a narrow ledge scarcely two feet wide; below this—space. But upon this ledge lay the great eagle, with outstretched wings, stone dead, its head hanging over the abyss.
“I can get at it there, fortunately,” muttered Roden.
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going down to pick up the bird.”
“You are not.”
He stared.
“But I want it,” he urged. “It is too fine a specimen to be left lying there.”
“Never mind; you can shoot another. Now, don’t go, don’t!”
Again he recognised the expression which came into her face, as with startled eyes and voice which shook with the very abandon of her entreaty, she stood there before him. What then? He had seen that look in other faces, but what had come of it!
“I am going down,” he repeated.