"He is caught! He can neither get in nor out," said Heathcote, in an ecstasy of mirth.
"Who is it?" said Anne again.
"Dexter, of course; he is here looking for you. There! he has slipped—he is in real danger! No; he has firm hold with his hands. See him try to find the edge with his feet. Oh, this is too good!" And throwing back his head, Heathcote laughed until his brown eyes shone.
But Anne, really alarmed, held her breath; then, when the struggling figure at last found its former foot-hold, she gave a sigh of relief. "We must go down," she said.
"And why, Miss Douglas?"
"Did you not say he had come for me?"
"That was a supposition merely. And did not I come for you too?"
"But as he is there, would it not be better for us to go down?"
"Have we not done well enough by ourselves so far? And besides, at this late hour, I see no object in getting a wetting merely for his sake."
"It is not raining hard now."