“Well, I shall try.”
“No, don’t; pray, don’t! It looks so dangerous.”
“Nonsense!”
“She couldna clamber up there fra the bottom,” said Scoodrach slowly, “but she could clamber up it fra the top.”
“No, you couldn’t, stupid; it hangs over.”
“An’ we could tak’ a rope.”
“Come on, then,” cried Kenneth, seizing the tiller; and Max felt his hands grow damp in the palms as he looked up at the top of the precipice, and saw in imagination one of his companions dangling from a rope.
“Which will be best—forward or backward?”
“Yonder where we landed to get the big corbies,” said Scoodrach; and the boat was run on for about a quarter of a mile, to where a ravine ran right up into the land, looking as if a large wedge had been driven in to split the cliff asunder.
The boat was steered in, the sail lowered, and Scood immediately began to set free one of the ropes.