“But I ain’t got a small brain,” said Esau. “Won’t you go first?”
“No. I went over the clatter slide first, and regretted it directly I had started. I felt as if I ought to have been last. Now then, don’t hesitate.”
“But—”
“Shall I go over, Esau?” I said. “Yes, please. One of my legs is a bit stiff, and I think I’ll take off my boots first.”
By this time Quong had nearly reached the part where there was the projection to go round, and I stepped down with something else to think about, for I saw Gunson laughing rather contemptuously at Esau, who sat down at once to remove his boots, his face scarlet with shame and annoyance, for Gunson said mockingly—
“Don’t take off the stiff leg too, my lad; you’ll want it.”
I glanced back, and caught Esau’s eye, and fancied that I heard his teeth click together as he gave a kind of snap, looking as if he would like now to take my place for very shame.
But it was too late. I was already on the ledge, feeling for places to get a hold, and finding that the rock was so full of cracks that I could insert my fingers easily enough, and steady myself as I shifted my leg along. Gunson had followed down close behind me.
“Well done!” he shouted, so as to be heard above the roar of the water. “Don’t look down at the river, my lad, but keep your eyes on the rock, and you’ll soon be over.”
I made no attempt to reply, but kept sidling my way along slowly and cautiously, and finding the task much easier than I thought it would prove; in fact, if it had been solid ground below me instead of that awful torrent, I felt that the task would have been nothing. It was the thought that a slip would be fatal which made all the difference, and I had hard work to resist the magnetic attraction of that writhing water, which seemed to be trying to make me look at it, so that I might turn giddy and fall.