“Very well,” said Mike breathlessly: “I’ve got you.”
“Ready?”
“Yes.”
Vincent Burnet did not hesitate, but, with a quick movement, turned himself right over, dragging heavily upon the rope, though, and making his companion draw in his breath through his closed teeth with a hissing sound.
“There I am,” said Vince coolly. “I could slip down into the place if I liked, but I won’t try; so just ease the rope, inch by inch, as I shuffle myself lower. That’s the way. Easy as kiss my hand. A little more, and a little more, and there we are. Why, Mike, old chap, it’s just like sitting in a saddle—only it’s so hard.”
“Are your legs right over the side?”
“Yes, and the wind’s blowing up the legs of my trousers like anything. Oh! you can’t think what a sharp draught there is.”
“Never mind the draught.”
“No use to,” said Vince.
“Oh, I say, do have a good look down, and then come up again. Now, then: does the cliff slope from where you are?”