"Mon Gyu!" cried old Tom, and sped up the bank to see the end.
But the white horse knew his way and had no fear. They were just in time to hear the rattle of his hoofs, as he disappeared with a final shrill defiance into the outer darkness on the further side of a mighty gulf, while a stone dislodged by his flying feet went clattering down into invisible depths.
"He's done it," panted old Tom, while Gard gazed with something like awe at the narrow pathway, wavering across from side to side of the great abyss, out of which rose the growl of the sea.
"What's this?" he asked.
"Coupée. It's a wonder he managed it. The path slipped in the winter and it's narrow in places."
"And do people cross it in the dark?" asked Gard, thinking of the girl and boy who had gone to see the Seigneur.
"Och yes! It is not bad when you're used to it. Come and see!" and he led the way back across the common to the road.
Gard walked cautiously behind him as he went across the crumbling white pathway with the carelessness of custom, and, sailor as he had been, he was not sorry when the other side was reached, and he could stand in the security of the cutting and look back, and down into the gulf where the white waves foamed and growled among the boulders three hundred feet below.
"I've seen a many as did not care to cross that, first time they saw it," said old Tom with a chuckle.
"Well, I'm not surprised at that. It's apt to make one's head spin."