ay along the cliff
edge for some distance, but at the end of another mile it vanished. The
two men then had some rough walking up and down hillsides and across
deep gullies. The sun disappeared behind the hills, and twilight
imperceptibly came on. They soon reached a spot where further progress
appeared impossible. The buttress of a mountain descended at a steep
angle to the very edge of the cliff, forming an impassable slope of
slippery grass. Maskull halted, stroked his beard, and wondered what the
next step was to be.

"There's a little scrambling here," said Nightspore. "We are both used
to climbing, and there is not much in it."

He indicated a narrow ledge, winding along the face of the precipice a
few yards beneath where they were standing. It averaged from fifteen
to thirty inches in width. Without waiting for Maskull's consent to the
undertaking, he instantly swung himself down and started walking along
this ledge at a rapid pace. Maskull, seeing that there was no help for
it, followed him. The shelf did not extend for above a quarter of a
mile, but its passage was somewhat unnerving; there was a sheer drop
to the sea, four hundred feet below. In a few places they had to sidle
along without placing one foot before another. The sound of the breakers
came up to them in a low, threatening roar.

Upon rounding a corner, the ledge broadened out into a fair-sized
platform of rock and came to a sudden end. A narrow inlet of the sea
separated them from the continuation of the cliffs beyond.

"As we can't get any further," said Maskull, "I presume this is your Gap
of Sorgie?"

"Yes," answered his friend, first dropping on his knees and then lying
at full length, face downward. He drew his head and shoulders over the
edge and began to stare straight down at the water.

"What is there interesting down there, Nightspore?"

Receiving no reply, however, he followed his friend's example, and the
next minute was looking for himself. Nothing was to be seen; the gloom
had deepened, and the sea was nearly invisible. But, while he was
ineffectually gazing, he heard what sounded like the beating of a
drum on the narrow strip of shore below. It was very faint, but quite
distinct. The beats were in four-four time, with the third beat slightly
accented. He now continued to hear the noise all the time he was lying
there. The beats were in no way drowned by the far louder sound of the
surf, but seemed somehow to belong to a diff