Festing remarked that they wore jackets that had a tanned look, unusually short skirts, and thick nailed boots. Then he thought Helen's eyes twinkled.
“You would not have expected to find me engaged in anything so strenuous as this?”
“It is rather strenuous,” Miss Jardine broke in. “You can stand if you like; I'm going to sit down.”
They found a flat stone, and when Festing leaned against another Helen resumed: “We meant to try the Stairs, but have had a hard day and Alison is lame.”
“I hurt my foot,” Miss Jardine explained. “Besides, I'm from the level Midlands and we have been walking since breakfast. That doesn't matter to Helen; she is never tired.”
Festing thought Helen looked remarkably fresh. Exertion and the mountain air had brought a fine color to her face, her eyes were bright, and there was a hint of vigor in her resting pose. Moreover, he had studied the Stairs, which led behind the shoulder of the crag to the summit. One could get up, if one was thin enough to squeeze through a gap between two rocks, but nerve and agility would be required.
“But you must climb pretty well, if you meant to get up the Stairs,” he said.
“I know the Carnarvon range, but only go there now and then, and one needs some training to keep pace with people born among the fells who walk like mountain goats.”
Had she said a mountain deer, Festing would have approved, for he had noted Helen's easy balance and fearless grace as she crossed the ragged blocks of stone. Then a rumble of distant thunder rolled among the crags and Miss Jardine resumed: “We ought to fix upon the best way down.”
“The best is a rather elastic term,” Helen rejoined. “The easiest would be to go back by the way we came.”