“You’ll get to the bottom afore you know it,” replied the man. “No.”
“Then you must lower me with the rope.”
“What, and one o’ my knots!” said the man, maliciously.
“Oh, don’t talk,” cried Joe, “but come on. We must get along to where it’s right over him, and then I’ll go down. But did you ever see a hole along here?”
“Nay—never!”
“Come on.”
Joe led the way inland, and then had to clamber over block after block of tumbled together granite for some fifty yards, when he turned to begin mounting to the hog-back-like ridge which ran out to the great bastion which overhung the sea.
It was an awkward climb—not dangerous, but difficult. Joe’s heart was in his work though; and, free now from superstitious dread, Hardock toiled after him, keeping up so that he was at his shoulder when the boy lay down on his chest and looked over the edge.
For a few moments he could see nothing but ledge and jutting block, whitened by the sea-birds which here brought up their young in peace, for even the reckless boys had looked upon it as too hazardous to descend. The sea far below was just creaming among the rocks which peered above the water, and ran out in a reef causing a dangerous race; but though Joe searched the whole cliff face below him for nearly a minute he could see nothing, and at last he shouted with all his might and had a lesson in the feebleness of the human voice in that vast expanse.
“Ahoy!”