They were now going up the face of the cliff, the lariats over their shoulders, and searching with careful feet for a foothold, while their hands clutched some piece of projecting rock.
"Lucky this rock isn't rotten," cried Jo, "or we would find ourselves stuck headfirst in the sand below."
"Like an ostrich," said Jim. "We couldn't do much in a place like this without our moccasins, that's certain."
The moccasins did make them nimble as goats, and they not only made possible a secure hold, but they protected as well the feet. At first they were not in any grave danger of a fall because the drifted sand at the bottom of the cliff would have made a soft landing. But after a while they were forced to work their way out over the rushing water, then if they had slipped and fallen it would have been all up with them.
It seemed as if the sea, furious at having lost Jim a short while ago, was making fierce efforts to get at them now. The great waves foamed against the cliff and the spray dashed over the boys, making the surface of the rock treacherous and slippery.
"I can't bear to look down," said Jo. "It makes me dizzy."
"Look up, then," Jim called back.
"That's almost as bad," replied Jo.
"Keep 'em shut then," was Jim's command.
Finally they came to a place that stopped Jo entirely. Jim was able to get over it, because of his superior height and reach, and he attained a point of safety above Jo.