“Now I shall go and prospect for the relics of my ghostly ancestor,” said Roland. “If you don’t mind waiting, I’ll be with you again in a few minutes.”
“Why? Where are you going?”
“To ascend this—er—Skeg.”
“But I want to go too. You must not expect to keep all the honour and glory of this hairbreadth adventure to yourself.”
“You want to go, too! H’m! You’ll slip or turn giddy. The way is infamous.”
Both stood gazing at the wretched slippery path that wound up and around the great rock.
“Oh, don’t be afraid,” she said. “It isn’t the first time. I crossed Hadden’s Slide once, and that’s far worse than this.”
“You, never having seen this, are of course an authority.”
“Rude again,” she laughed. “Now let me have my way.”
Shaking his head dubiously, he allowed her that privilege. But more than once as they came suddenly upon a great yawning rift where the path had fallen away, revealing a perfect abattis of jagged rocks beneath, which, although at no great depth, were sufficiently far down to dash either of them to pieces like an egg-shell, in the event of a slip, he began to wish he had never allowed her to come. Olive, however, seemed to revel in the danger. Her face was flushed with the glow and excitement of the adventure, and her dark eyes shone and sparkled with exhilaration.