The man made a fierce gesture, and the lad felt that he was at the fellow’s mercy, where a sharp thrust of the hand would send him headlong down, most likely to his death. But he did not shrink.
“I promise you I won’t betray you, Eben,” he said, “if you give me your word to set the poor young fellow free.”
“Come on, then—if there’s time,” said the smuggler, hoarsely. “I can hear ’em coming on fast. Now, then, I’m going to show you what all us chaps have sworn on our lives never to let out. Quick! I know you’ve got plenty of game in you, my lad. I’m going to jump down there.”
He pointed down over the edge of the shelf as he spoke.
“Are you mad?” said Aleck, hoarsely, feeling that the man must be to propose what seemed to be like a leap into the next world.
“Not me, my lad. Look! I trust you to come after me sharp—before the cutter’s men see you. Come, you won’t shrink now?”
“He came along this way, I’ll swear,” came from overhead, quite loudly, and a whistle rang out again.
Eben Megg seized Aleck’s arm with his left hand, and with his right caught the lad’s fingers for a moment in a firm grip.
“Jump just as I do. I’ll be ready to catch you.”
Aleck nodded, and then felt ready to shut his eyes, for the man gave one glance upward where a loud murmur of voices could be heard, and then stepped close to the edge of the shelf, placed his feet close together, drew himself up stiffly, and then made a little jump, just sufficient to let himself drop, as it were, clear of the rock, his back being visible just for a moment, and then there was a slight pat coming from below.