“Guess I can if I want to,” retorted the boy, looking over the perilous edge and scrutinizing the grade for any possible root or tree stump upon which he might grasp in an emergency. “Say,” his head jerked sideways toward Cheerio, who had dismounted himself to investigate the situation. “Will you look after Silver Heels till I get back? ’Tain’t safe for him to go over, but I’ll be Jake.”
“Sandy! You come back! Dad said the earth wasn’t safe under those rocks there, and any minute one of ’em might roll over. That rock’s moving now! Sandy! Oh, stop him! D-d-don’t let—him! Please!”
She had appealed to Cheerio. It was the first request she had ever made of him. Instantly he grasped the arm of her brother.
“Come on, old man. There’s a prospect over yonder that looks a jolly sight better than down there.”
“Aw, girls give me a pain,” declared the disgusted Sandy. “What do they want to come spyin’ along for anyway, and throwin’ fits about nothin’. What do they know about dinosauruses or anything else, I’d like to know?”
“On you go, old man!”
He had hoisted the grumbling boy upon his horse. Sandy raced angrily ahead. Cheerio looked at Hilda with the expectant boyish smile of one hoping for reward. He had “taken her part.” Thanks were his due. Thanks indeed he did not get. Hilda’s glance met his own only for a moment and then she said, while the deep colour flooded all of her face and neck:
“Now you can see for yourself what your fool expeditions might lead to. Sandy’s the only brother I have in the world, and first thing you know he’ll be going over one of those cliffs and then—then—you’ll be entirely to blame.”
Discomfited, Cheerio lost the use of his tongue. After a moment he inquired, somewhat dejectedly:
“Sh-shall we c-c-c-call them off then?”