That was a real peril and Jimmy was obliged to consider it. Jammed tight in what might very well prove to be a narrow passage he would be quite defenceless against a falling stone. As if to emphasise the reality of the risk, there came rumbling and clattering down the chimney a shower of pebbles and loose earth. Beth was startled again—so startled, that she loosed her grasp round Jimmy's elbow and flung her arms round his neck.
"Jimmy, dearest," she said, "you'll be killed if you go."
It is very likely that he would have been killed, for a small avalanche of stones, pebbles and earth came rushing down. The loose debris clattered and crashed on the floor of the cave, some of the stones rolling up to Beth's feet. Jimmy pulled her back still further from the hole.
"Don't go, Jimmy," she said.
"All right. I won't. It's not good enough. But I say, Beth——"
Relieved of her fear for him and far enough from the hole to feel safe herself, Beth realised that she was clinging very close to Jimmy. The position, though very pleasant for him, was embarrassing for her. She drew away quickly.
"I say, Beth," said Jimmy, "don't do that. What I mean to say is, go on doing that. Don't you think you ought to?"
"I'm quite sure I ought not. I can't think how I came to do it."
"If I say I'm going up the hole, you might do it again. Would you?"
"Certainly not."