“It was now quite evident that I would require to descend the cliff by some means or other, but how? That was a matter for deep consideration. I was standing on the brink of a precipice,—had two cunning fellows to deal with,—had to hold on, at least with one hand, to the rock above in order to maintain my equilibrium,—and had to keep a steady eye on my companions for fear lest they should rush at me and throw me over the cliff.
“Such being the case, was I not in a pretty fix? If there were any means of escape, it was from the point near which the foxes were. But how could I dislodge them to get at that point? The space on which we stood was only from about two feet and a half to one foot broad, and about nine feet long, projecting to some distance over the cliff beneath. To have shot them, and rid myself of their presence in that fashion, was, from my position, utterly impossible.
“At length a thought struck me, and with the view of putting it in execution, I laid down my gun close to the back of the shelving, out of harm’s way; then crouching down with my feet towards my shaggy friends, who kept up a constant chattering of their teeth during the whole time, and pushing myself backwards until I reached the nearest, I gave him a kick with my foot on the hind quarters, which produced the desired effect; for I had no sooner done so, than I felt first the feet of one and then of the other passing lightly along my back, and before I had time to lift up my head, they had bolted up the precipice and disappeared.
OVERLOOKING THE PRECIPICE.
“I was now master of the place, though not of the situation. On looking over the cliff, I found that there was no way of getting down but by leaping into a crevice of the rocks, more than eight feet beneath me, and in a slanting direction from where I was. This was a doleful discovery, but there was no help now; so, taking off my coat, shot-belt, and powder-flask, that I might be so much the lighter, and have the free use of my arms, I threw them down to the bottom of the rock. I next bound the gun to my back, having previously emptied it of its contents. I then crawled over the edge of the rock, and hung dangling in the air for a little, like the pendulum of a clock. I would have given all that I ever possessed in the world to have been again in the foxes’ den, stinking though it was. For then, and not till then, did I discover, to my sorrow, that a rugged portion of a rock projected over the entrance to the aperture to which I wished to descend, and that, in leaping, I would require to go beyond it in order to reach the landing underneath. To accomplish such a feat seemed to me impossible.
MAKES THE LEAP.
“I hung thus, being afraid to make the leap, though up I could not get, until my hands began to give way; when, mustering all my remaining strength, and having taken the last swing with some force, I let go my hold to abide by the dreadful alternative,—for I had little hope of gaining the desired haven. Most fortunately, however, I did gain it, but, in doing so, I received a severe blow on the left temple from the rock I had so much dreaded. I also lost my cap, which fell off when my head struck the rock. From this cavity or chink, which was the worst that I ever had to deal with, I managed,—by leaping and swinging from one rocky shelf and cavity to another, and by crawling from crag to crag, alternately, as circumstances required it,—to reach a huge stone, which evidently had once formed a part of the higher portion of the cliff, but had, at a bygone period, by some means or other, become detached from it, and on rolling down had found a temporary resting-place there.
“Beyond this stone, I found my leaping was at an end, for I had now arrived at the top of a rather rough and almost perpendicular declivity, fully fifty feet from the bottom, and bounded on both sides by steep and overhanging cliffs. Before me was the sea, behind and above me was an insurmountable barrier of 300 feet of cliff. Although I had descended thus far, there was no human possibility of my being able to re-ascend by the same path. In such a place—alone, and almost powerless—bruised and nearly worn out with exertion—what could I do? Throw myself down, and meet my fate at once, or wait till help should arrive? But where was help to come from? Two boats had already passed from Gardenstown, both of which I hailed, but they sailed along on their way. Perhaps they were too far out at sea to hear my cries, or to notice my signals of distress.
THE PEREGRINE FALCON.
“Despairing of success, I sat down to consider what was next to be done. While thus resting, I observed a falcon (Falco peregrinus) sailing slowly and steadily along, bearing something large in his talons. On he came, seemingly unconscious of my presence, and alighted on a ledge only a few yards from where I sat. I now saw that the object he carried was a partridge. Having fairly settled down with his quarry on the rock, I could not help wondering at and admiring the collected ease and cool composure with which he held his struggling captive (for it was still alive) until death put an end to its sufferings. There was no lacerating with his beak at the body of the poor and unfortunate prisoner, in order, as it were, to hasten its termination; no expanding of the wing to maintain his equilibrium; although the last and dying struggle of the bird caused him to quiver a little.