"It's a sad heart that never rejoices," quoted Jack. "Main thing is we've found your brother. Sprained ankle's nothing. Wonder what he meant when he said he was pushed? Look out—that's a nasty one."
He pulled up just in time to avoid a deep and narrow fissure that ran practically at right angles to the general trend of the cliffs.
"We can scramble down that," decided Bobby, "and save a long detour."
"And perhaps find ourselves stranded on the next terrace. I'm not having any, old thing. If you want to indulge in a sprained ankle just to show sympathy to your brother, then that's your funeral."
Beverley saw the force of the argument.
"Right-o," he replied simply; but it occurred to him that for once at least the two chums were exchanging characteristics. He was usually cautious, while Villiers was of a boisterous, go-ahead nature. Now Villiers displayed caution, while he, Beverley, was decidedly impulsive.
"I'd do it like a shot," continued Jack, "if there were any pressing necessity for it, but there isn't. Dick is in no immediate danger. If we slipped then Harborough would have three useless people on his hands. Stand by with that lamp."
Guided by the beam of light Jack jumped the intervening gap, adroitly caught the bulky apparatus, and waited until Bobby had safely crossed the crevice.
Beyond that point progress was comparatively simple, and presently they found themselves on the sandy shore of the lagoon.
"Let's see the extent of the damage, Dick," said his brother, when the rescuers arrived at the shelving ground where the injured lad lay.