Chapter Twenty Four.
Aleck resigned himself to the smuggler’s guiding hand, which gripped his arm tightly, and as the giddy sensation began to pass off and he saw more clearly, he grasped the position in which he stood—to wit, that he was upon another ledge of rock, apparently another stratum of the great slowly-built-up masses which formed the mighty cliffs, one, however, which had been eaten away more by the action of time, so that it was much more deeply indented, while the upper stratum from which he had dropped overlapped considerably, save in one place, where this lower shelf projected in a rocky tongue, which resembled a huge bracket, and a cold shiver ran through the lad as he saw now fully the perilous nature of his leap.
“Haven’t found out the way yet,” said Eben, coolly; “but when they do they won’t find out which way we’ve come. What do you say, sir?”
“Oh, no!” said Aleck, trying to conceal a shiver. “But what a horrible leap!”
“Nothing when you’re used to it, sir. All right if you keep your head, and safe from being found out.”
“But suppose anyone were on the opposite side?”
“No good to suppose that, master. Nothing ever comes there but the gulls and mews, with a few sea parrots. Nobody could get there without being let down by a line, and the birds never nest there, so it’s quite safe. Now, then, if you’re ready we’ll go down.”
“Go down?”
“Yes, my lad; this is the way down to the shore.”