risk. We've got to take it and lump it. You know the old joke about
those dangerous beds--so many people die in them. Won't you break your
rule just for once, and come up on top here to see the view with me?"

Tyrrel shook his head firmly. "Not to-day," he answered, with a quiet
smile. "Not by that path, at any rate. It's too risky for my taste.
The stones are so loose. And it overhangs the road the quarrymen go to
the cave by."

Le Neve had now made good his foothold up the first four or five
steps. "Well, you've no objection to my going, at any rate?" he said,
with a wave of one hand, in his cheerful good-humor. "You don't put a
veto on your friends here, do you?"

"Oh, not the least objection," Tyrrel answered, hurriedly, watching
him climb, none the less, with nervous interest. "It's...it's a purely
personal and individual feeling. Besides," he added, after a pause," I
can stop below here, if need be, and warn the quarrymen."

"I'll be back in ten minutes," Le Neve shouted from the cliff.

"No, don't hurry," his host shouted back. "Take your own time, it's
safest. Once you get to the top you'd better walk along the whole
cliff path to Kynance. They tell me its splendid; the view's so wide;
and you can easily get back across the moor by lunch-time. Only, mind
about the edge, and whatever you do, let no stones roll over."

"All right," Le Neve made answer, clinging close to a point of rock.
"I'll do no damage. It's opening out beautifully on every side now. I
can see round the corner to St. Michael's Mount; and the point at the