We're just the boys as can do it. Why, it arn't half so bad as being up on the main-top gallant yard.

"'Fol de rol de-riddle-lol-de-ri.'"

"Don't make that noise, Jem, pray."

"Why not, my lad? That's your sort; try all the roots before you trust 'em. I'm getting on splen--"

_Rush_!

"Jem!"

"All right, Mas' Don! Only slipped ten foot of an easy bit to save tumbles."

"It isn't true. I was looking at you, and I saw that root you were holding come out of the rock."

"Did you, Mas' Don? Oh, I thought I did that o' purpose," came from below.

"Where are you?"

"Sitting straddling on a big bit o' bush."

"Where? I can't see you."

"Here, all right. 'Tarn't ten foot, it's about five and twenty--

"'De-riddle-lol-de-ri.'"

"Jem, we must climb back. It is too risky."

"No, we mustn't, Mas' Don; and it arn't a bit too risky. Come along, and I'll wait for you."

Don hesitated for a minute, and then continued his descent, which seemed to grow more perilous each moment.

"Say, Mas' Don," cried Jem cheerily, "what a chance for them birds.

Couldn't they dig their bills into us now!"

"Don't talk so, Jem. I can't answer you."

"Must talk, my lad. Them fern things is as rotten as mud. Don't you hold on by them. Steady! Steady!"

"Yes. Slipped a little."

"Well, then, don't slip a little. What's your hands for?

"'There was a man in Bristol city, Fol de rol de--'"

"Say, Mas' Don, think there's any monkeys here?"

"No, no."

"'Cause how one o' they would scramble down this precipit. Rather p.r.i.c.ky, arn't it?"

"Yes; don't talk so."

"All right!

"'De-riddle-liddle-lol.'

"I'm getting on first rate now, Mas' Don--I say."

"Yes!"

"No press-gang waiting for us down at the bottom here, Mas' Don?"

"Can you manage it, Jem?"

"Can I manage it? Why, in course I can. How are you getting on?"

Don did not reply, but drew a long breath, as he slowly descended the perilous natural ladder, which seemed interminable.

They were now going down pretty close together, and nearly on a level, presence and example giving to each nerve and endurance to perform the task.

"Steady, dear lad, steady!" cried Jem suddenly, as there was a sharp crack and a slip.

"Piece I was resting on gave way," said Don hoa.r.s.ely, as he hung at the full length of his arms, vainly trying to get a resting-place for his feet.

Jem grasped the position in an instant, but remained perfectly cool.

"Don't kick, Mas' Don."

"But I can't hang here long, Jem."

"n.o.body wants you to, my lad. Wait a minute, and I'll be under you, and set you right.

"'There was a man in Bristol city,'"

he sang cheerily, as he struggled sidewise. "'Fol de--' I say, Mas'

Don, he was a clever one, but I believe this here would ha' bothered him. It's hold on by your eyelids one minute, and wish you was a fly next."

"Jem."

"Hullo, lad?"

"If I let go and dropped, how far should I fall?"

"'Bout two foot ten," said Jem, after a glance below them at the sheer precipice.

"Then I had better drop."