Fortunately I was able to reach a ragged point where I
could once more get a firm foothold.
Resting there, I reflected that I was not yet halfway down the
precipice; and now I had to think of how I should manage to haul
the rope down and secure it to another projecting rock. The only
suitable point I could see was some yards away from me to the right
side, and I had to climb upward again before I could find a shelf
by which to approach it. After a tedious attempt--during which my
magic stone came very near to proving its power--I at last reached
the desired place. A gull fluttered away with a wild cry as with
bleeding fingers I held on to the ledge of rock; and there I found,
nestling upon their bed of moss and weeds, a pair of woolly little
chicks which stared strangely at my intrusion.
My safety, perhaps even my life, depended upon my getting astride
of that small rocky point where the young gulls sat. In my
extremity I took hold of one of the chicks, intending to throw it
down the cliffs; but the mother bird flew towards me with such
piteous cries that even in my danger I could not be so cruel, so I
removed the little ones to a crevice close at hand and seated
myself upon their nest, thankful of the refuge it afforded. And now
I heard a shrill whistle from Robbie Rosson, by which I understood
that, seeing my comparative safety, he was going to find some place
where he could get down to the beach, there to wait until I should
bring the boat round for him.
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