“Good little boy!” said Vince merrily. “Four and two do make six. I’ll tell Mr Deane to-morrow. He was grumbling the other day about the muddle you made over your algebra.”
“You look after your climbing, and never mind my algebra,” said Mike huskily.
“Now, Mikey!” cried Vince; “hold on—tight as you can.”
“Yes. Don’t you want the other two feet?”
“Of course I do; but I’m going to turn over.”
“No, no, I say—don’t!” cried Mike. “Do think where you are! Have a good look, and then come up.”
“Here, I say, you’d better come down instead of me. I can’t see out of the back of my head if you can. Now, no nonsense. This is what I want to do: I’m going to turn over, with my back to the cliff, and then shuffle down that other two feet, with my legs on each side of that piece of stone.”
“But it’s at the very edge,” said Mike. “Good boy again! How well you can see, Ladle! It is just at the edge; and, once I’m there, I can see down either way.”
“But it isn’t safe, Cinder. I can’t help being anxious. Suppose the stone’s loose, and gives way?”
“Why, then it will fall down and frighten more birds. Now then, don’t fidget. If the stone goes, you’d still hold on by the rope, and I should be left sitting there all the same. I shouldn’t do it if I didn’t feel that I could. I’m not a bit nervous, so hold on.”