“Oh, it always does; but there’s nothing to mind.”
“But suppose one of us did get down and found the mouth?”
“Well, we must find the mouth, because that’s where the light and water come in.”
“But if we did, the water’s deep outside, and we should have to swim round to somewhere and land.”
“Seems to me very stupid that we know so little about the shore under the rocks,” said Fred, as he tried to pierce the pale grey light below. “Seems a stupid sort of shore, all steep cliff, and nowhere hardly to get down. Well, what shall we do? Will you go down, or shall I?”
“I’d rather trust to your holding the rope than mine.”
“That’s just how I feel,” cried Fred. “But you went down first, and now it’s my turn, so here goes. Now then, let’s gather the rope into a coil, and throw one end down. Then you sit flat here on the ledge, with your legs stretched out, hold tight by the rope with both hands, and then let it hang between your legs and over the edge. It won’t be hard to hold.”
“I’ll try,” said Scarlett, nervously; “but I hardly like doing it.”
“And I don’t like going down, but it has got to be done, and the more fuss we make over it, the worse it will be. When you’ve got to take physic, down with it at once.”
“Yes,” said Scarlett, drily, “that’s the best way, but the best way is often the hardest.”