"
"The sea's somewhere beyond us," I said.
"Come, come," Blodgett repeated tiresomely in his thin windy voice, "over
these rocks and we'll be safe." He was so confident and eager that we were
on the very point of following him. I actually leaned out over the edge
ready to leap down. Never did a man's strange delusion come nearer to
leading his comrades to disaster!
The cook raised his hand. "Look--look dah!"
He was staring past Blodgett's feet, past my hands, down at the rocks
whither we were about to drop. The mist was opening slowly. There was
nothing for more than six feet below us--for more than twelve feet. Now the
mist eddied up to the rock again; now it curled away and opened out until
we could look down to the ghostly, phosphorescent whiteness of waves
breaking on rough stones almost directly under us. Blodgett, with a queer,
frightened expression, crawled back to Neddie Benson.
We were sitting at the brink of a sheer precipice, which fell away more
than two hundred feet to a mass of jagged rock on which the sea was booming
with a hollow sound like the voice of a great bell.
"Well, here we'll have to make our stand if they follow us," said Davie.
Although the rest were white with horror at the death we so narrowly had
avoided, old Davie did not even breathe more quickly.
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