“Jem, we must climb back. It is too risky.”
“No, we mustn’t, Mas’ Don; and it arn’t a bit too risky. Come along, and I’ll wait for you.”
Don hesitated for a minute, and then continued his descent, which seemed to grow more perilous each moment.
“Say, Mas’ Don,” cried Jem cheerily, “what a chance for them birds. Couldn’t they dig their bills into us now!”
“Don’t talk so, Jem. I can’t answer you.”
“Must talk, my lad. Them fern things is as rotten as mud. Don’t you hold on by them. Steady! Steady!”
“Yes. Slipped a little.”
“Well, then, don’t slip a little. What’s your hands for?
“‘There was a man in Bristol city,
Fol de rol de—’”
“Say, Mas’ Don, think there’s any monkeys here?”