Time after time he called out to me, 'Walter, my boy, take care; don't
go so near the edge, you'll tumble over presently.' And time after
time I answered him back, like a boy that I was, 'Oh, I'm all right,
uncle. No fear about me. I can take care of myself. These cliffs don't
crumble. They're a deal too solid.'

"At last, when he saw it was no good warning me that way any longer,
he turned round to me rather sharply--he was a Tyrrel, you see, and
conscientious, as we all of us are--it runs in the blood somehow--'If
you don't mind for yourself, at least mind for others. Who can say who
may be walking underneath those rocks? If you let a loose stone fall
you may commit manslaughter.'

"I laughed, and thought ill of him. He was such a fidget! I was only a
boy. I considered him absurdly and unnecessarily particular. He had
stalked on a yard or two in front. I loitered behind, and out of pure
boyish deviltry, as I was just above Michael's Crag, I loosened some
stones with my foot and showered them over deliberately. Oh, heavens,
I feel it yet; how they rattled and rumbled!

"My uncle wasn't looking. He walked on and left me behind. He didn't
see me push them. He didn't see them fall. He didn't hear them rattle.
But as they reached the bottom I heard myself--or thought I heard--a
vague cry below. A cry as of some one wounded. I was frightened at
that; I didn't dare to look down, but ran on to my uncle. Not till
some hours after did I know the whole truth, for we walked along the
cliffs all the way to Kynance, and then returned inland by the road to
the Lizard.

"That afternoon, late, there was commotion at Penmorgan. The servants