"Hang on, Carl, that's the thing to do," returned Matt.
"Yah, you bed you I hang on! I don'd vant to fall py China und make some visits mit der Chings. I vouldn't enchoy dot, as I vould be all in bieces. Aber for vy iss dis, Matt? Vy you do dot?"
As they worked their way down the desperate slope, hanging to stunted bushes and projecting rocks, Matt explained.
"The white runabout may be going to Lamy," said he, "but I hardly think it would show up in the town like that——"
"Id vould schare der peobles oudt oof deir vits oof it dit!" puffed Carl. "Wow!" he fluttered, making a slip and only saving himself a fall by grabbing a bush with both hands. "A leedle more, Matt, und you vouldn't haf hat no Dutch bard."
"But it's my opinion," pursued Matt, completely wrapped up in the work in hand, "that the runabout is going to make the turn, just as it did last night, and come back toward La Vita Place along the cliff road."
"Vy it do dot foolishness, hey?"
"Give it up. Perhaps we'll know all about it before long. Find a good place, about six feet above the road, and hang on."
"Yah, you bed my life I don'd ged indo der roadt oof der shpook pubble iss coming. I vould haf to ged oudt oof der vay, und meppy I vould go ofer der edge like vat Verral dit, und you couldn't haf some ropes to helup me oudt. I vas fixed all righdt, Matt."
Carl had planted himself on a good foothold and was clinging to a stunted bush. Matt was on a level with him and a little to one side.