“I suppose,” gasped Fisher minor, as he threw himself on the grass, “we’re half-way now?”
“Getting on,” said Wally. “I dare say on the top of that next ridge we shall be able to see the top.”
“What, isn’t that the top?” said poor Fisher, craning his head up towards the beetling crag above them.
“Top? No, that’s the knob half-way down we see from the school window. The stiff part begins after that.”
Really Wally, if he had tried to be heartless, could not have succeeded better. Had he but expressed some hint at regret that the distance was so long, or vouchsafed the least semblance of a growl at the labour involved, they would have loved him. As it was, they durst do nothing but hate him, and accept his information joyously.
“That’s nothing,” said Lickford. “I feel quite fresh; don’t you, you chaps?”
“Rather!” they chimed in plaintively.
“Better get on,” said Wally, after a few minutes more. How they loathed Wally then!
The new slope was worse than the first; for the grass was more boggy, and big stones here and there jarred their tender feet. Besides, it grieved them to see Wally zigzagging steadily on ahead, utterly regardless of their distress behind. Yet no one exactly liked to stop. Had any one had the courage to do so, they would have gone down like a row of ninepins.
Let no one charge these boys with chicken-heartedness. On the contrary, they worked up that slope like heroes; all the more so that they were ready to drop, and durst not for very shame. There is no hero like the coward who compels himself to be brave. Many a man in history has become famous for an exploit that cost him far less than this climb cost the Fellsgarth juniors. Therefore let this record at least award the the credit they deserve.—It was some satisfaction, when the knob was reached, and they looked up at the black towering crags above, to see that even Wally seemed staggered for a moment.