“What is it?” cried Mike, holding on to the rope with all his might, and keeping it resting on the rock, over which it had slowly glided.
“Only a loose stone gave way under my feet, and went down.”
He remained silent, waiting to hear the fragment rebound and strike somewhere, but he listened in vain. The fall of the stone, however, had its effect, for a wild chorus of whistling and screaming arose, and an eddy of wings came up as a perfect cloud of white and grey birds rose into sight, and were spread to right and left.
“Hadn’t you better come back now?” said Mike anxiously.
“If I do it will be to make you come down instead. Why, you’re worse than I am, Mike! Now then, lower away! I only want about a fathom more, and then you may hold on tight.”
“Very well, then,” said the lad: “I’ll give you just six feet, and not a bit more. Then you shall come up.”
“Say seven,” cried Vince merrily.
“No: six. That’s what you said; so make much of it.”
“Lower away, then!” cried Vince; and he carefully descended, after a glance over his left shoulder, creeping cautiously down, and edging to his left till he was just over the block at the edge which he had marked out for his goal.
“That’s four feet, mind!” cried Mike: “only two more.”