Robin looked. A big square rock jutted sharply from the face of the cliff, with a mass of loose boulders under it.
“I’d give my hat to blow that big chap out!” declared Barry, excitedly. “There’s a cleft right behind him, on top—I can just get my hand in, up to the elbow. Gelignite shatters downwards, you know: I want to get the plug well down into that cleft. It’s a perfectly gorgeous place for the charge!”
“Well, it couldn’t do any harm, that I can see,” Robin said. “As long as you’re sure we have time to get out of the way.”
“Oh, whips of time! How do you suppose the men manage when they’re using this stuff every day?”
“They know more about it than I do,” was Robin’s sage comment. “But I suppose it’s all right: I’m game to chance it, anyhow. Carry on!”
She climbed up beside him, and explored for herself the hole where the charge was to go, and watched him place it in position.
“Now, you clear!” he told her. “No sense in our being in each other’s way when we’re scrambling down these rocks.”
“I suppose there isn’t,” she said, unwillingly. “But oh, Barry, do be careful! Suppose you slipped and hurt an ankle or something when you’re getting down?”
“Much more likely to do it if I’ve a girl blocking the way!” said the lordly male. “But I’m not going to do any such fat-headed thing. I know what I’m about. Cut, now, Robin, and I’ll set her going!”
Robin scrambled down the rocks, noting, with some relief, that the way was easy. Further she would not go, alone: she waited, with her heart beginning to beat heavily until Barry followed her, with amazing speed, and together they ran like frightened hares to their “dugout.” As they passed the largest patch of bracken they heard a quiet, satisfied grunting.