He could not bring himself to do that.

"It happened that close to the corner a large lump of rock and earth
was breaking away, a cleft was opening, so that presently, it seemed
possible at any moment, the mass would fall headlong into the blue
deeps below. This impending avalanche was not in my path along the
Bisse, it was no sort of danger to me, but in some way its
insecurity gave a final touch to my cowardice. I could not get
myself round that corner."

He turned away. He went and examined the planks in the other
direction, and these he found less forbidding. He crossed one
precipitous place, with a fall of twoscore feet or less beneath him,
and found worse ahead. There also he managed. A third place was
still more disagreeable. The plank was worn and thin, and sagged
under him. He went along it supporting himself against the rock
above the Bisse with an extended hand. Halfway the rock fell back,
so that there was nothing whatever to hold. He stopped, hesitating
whether he should go back--but on this plank there was no going back
because no turning round seemed practicable. While he was still
hesitating there came a helpful intervention. Behind him he saw a
peasant appearing and disappearing behind trees and projecting rock
masses, and coming across the previous plank at a vigorous trot. . . .

Under the stimulus of a spectator Benham got to the end of this
third place without much trouble. Then very politely he stood aside
for the expert to go ahead so that he could follow at his own pace.

There were, however, more difficulties yet to come, and a