Half-way up they saw a couple of those fast disappearing birds, the red-legged choughs, and startled a few jackdaws, which went off shouting at them, Mike said; and then the top was won, and they had a long survey of the cove from another point of view.
But there was nothing fresh to see; all beneath them was entirely hid from view, and though they looked again and again as they continued their course along the ridge their patience and toil were not rewarded, for, save that they were from different standpoints, the views they obtained of the rocks and rushing waters were the same.
They continued along the ridge by slow climbing for a considerable distance, and then as if moved by the same spirit they stopped and looked at each other.
“I say,” said Mike, “it don’t seem any good to go any farther.”
“No,” was the reply, given in a very decisive tone. “The only way to see that place down below is to get there in a boat.”
“And old Joe Daygo says it’s not right to go, and we should never get back; so we shall never see it.”
“I don’t believe that,” said Vince shortly.
“Well, I don’t want to, but it seems as if he’s right, and the more one looks the more one believes in him.”
“I don’t,” said Vince. “The more I look the more I seem to want to go and have a thorough good search, and I can’t help thinking he knows why.”
“Shall we try him again?”