The tone was not that of the playground, and the terrier obeyed mechanically—circumspectly, too, though, for he disliked heights.
Anthony addressed his companion.
"When he's near enough, take hold of his collar. Hang on like grim death. Listen! My arm's giving out. I'm going to let you go while I pull myself up. It's the only chance. You're light, and he'll stick his toes in. Put a strain on him now, so that he's ready."
"I shall pull him over," said Valerie.
"No, you won't, dear. Do as I say. Quick!"
He almost screamed the last word.
The moment he felt the strain, the terrier resisted wildly. Planting his forefeet against the heather-roots, he refused with all the instinctive terror of the dumb animal, straining every muscle of his little thick-set frame to avoid a closer acquaintance with that horrible brink….
Very gently Anthony lowered his companion till her arm was resting upon the turf and the edge of the cliff was in her arm-pit. Then—
"Only a second, sweet," he said quietly, and let her go….
With a frightful heave he was on his stomach … on his thighs … his knees … feet. He turned, staggering.