At a sign from his companion, Max hurriedly followed him to the doorway.
“We’ll go up on the top another time,” said Kenneth. “There’s such a view, and you can walk nearly all round the tower, only you have to be careful, or over you go.”
Max gave a horrified glance up the crumbling staircase, and then followed Kenneth, who began to descend with all the ease of one long accustomed to the dark place.
“Take care here!” he kept on saying, as they came to the awkward places, where Max felt as if he would give anything for a candle, but he mastered his timidity, and contrived to pass over the different gaps in the stairs safely.
“How does that old man manage?” he asked, as he drew breath freely at the bottom.
“Manage? Manage what?”
“Does he always stay there?”
“What! Old Donald? Why, he cuts up and down there as quickly as I can.”
“Then he is not always there?”
“Not he. Too fond of a good peat fire. He lives and sleeps at Long Shon’s. But come along.”