t a thrill seemed to come down the fibres of the
rope, and the strain upon the boy's chest to increase.

It was no easy task, for it was hard to find a resting-place on either
side of the gap for his feet; but, full of trust in Mike's hold of the
rope, and strengthened by the knowledge that it was secured to the
granite block as well, Vince gave himself a quick writhe, and turned
upon his face. Then, after a scrambling slip or two, his toes found a
ledge, as his hands already had, and he climbed steadily up.

That task was not difficult, for the foothold was easy to select, the
rope tightening still, and giving him steady help, while the distance,
long as it had taken him to descend, was only short.

In another minute he was over the ridge, looking down on Mike, who,
instead of hauling in the rope as he came up, had let himself glide down
like a counterpoise, and as soon as he saw his companion in safety, he
drew himself in a crouching position and stared up with his lips apart.

"It's all right," said Vince huskily. "Why, your face is white as
white, and your hair's all wet."

"Yes," gasped Mike hysterically, "and so's yours. Oh, Cinder, old chap,
I thought you had gone! Let's get away from this horrid place. Old
Joe's right: there is something terrible about it after all."

"Wait a bit," said Vince, rather feebly, as he too crouched down upon a
piece of rock. "I don't feel as if I could move much for a bit. I am
so stiff and weak, and this rope's cut into my chest. Yes: old Joe's
right; there's no getting down there. But it was awfully grand, Ladle,
and I should have liked you to see it."

"And do you want to lower me down?" said Mike fiercely.

"No!" cried Vince sharply. "I wouldn't have you feel what I felt when
that stone broke off and left me hanging there for all the riches in the
world!"

CHAPTER SEVEN.

THE PANGS OF COLD PUDDING.

"A burnt child fears the fire." So says the old proverb; and therefore
it was quite reasonable for a couple of big lads to feel a certain
sensation of shrinking when they talked about their adventure while
trying to investigate the mysteries surrounding the portion of Crag, or
Cormorant Island, as it was called, known as the Scraw.

For they did talk about it a great deal. Then, too, Vince had some
_very_ unpleasant dreams about hanging over a tremendous gulf. One
night in particular he was especially bad.

It happened in this way: Mike came over to the