Part 11 (1/2)

And then a tall, thin man came up the stair, and _he_ asked us where the stone was, and we showed him, and he looked at it, and then he glanced down into the intervening gulf, and drew back with a shudder.

”Not for me,” he said. ”Not--for--me!”

”We've come all the way from America,” said Betty, ”and we simply _can't_ go away until we've kissed it.”

”Well, _I've_ come all the way from New Zealand, madam,” said the man, ”but I wouldn't think for a minute of risking my life like that.”

”It used to be a good deal more dangerous than it is now,” I pointed out, as much for my own benefit as for his. ”They used to take people by the ankles and hold them upside down outside the battlement. I suppose they dropped somebody over, for those spikes were put there along the top to stop it. If the people who hold your legs are steady, there really isn't any danger now.”

The New Zealander took another peep over into s.p.a.ce.

”No sirree!” he said. ”No sir--ree!”

But he didn't go away. Instead, he sat down and began to talk; and I fancied I could see in his eyes some such uneasy purpose as I saw in Betty's.

And then a boy of twelve or fourteen came up. He was evidently native to the neighbourhood, and I asked him if he had ever kissed the stone.

”I have, sir, many a time,” he said.

”Would you mind doing it again, so that we can see just how it is done?”

He readily consented, and lay down on his back with his head and shoulders over the gulf, and the New Zealander took one leg and I took the other. Then the boy reached his hands above his head and grasped the iron bars which ran down inside the battlement to hold the stone in place.

”Now, push me down,” he said.

My heart was in my mouth as we pushed him down, for it seemed an awful distance, though I knew we couldn't drop him because he wasn't very heavy; and then we heard a resounding smack.

”All right,” he called. ”Pull me up.”

We pulled him up, and in an instant he was on his feet.

”That's all there is to it,” he said, and sauntered off.

”Hm-m-m!” grunted the New Zealander, and sat down again.

I gazed at the landscape for a minute or two, my hands deep in my pockets.

When I turned around, Betty had her hat and coat off, and was spreading her raincoat on the parapet opposite the stone.

”What are you going to do?” I demanded sternly.

She sat down on the raincoat with her back to the abyss.

”Come on, you two, and hold me,” she commanded.

I suppose I might have refused, but I didn't. The truth is, I wanted her to kiss the stone as badly as she wanted to; so I knelt on one side of her and the New Zealander knelt on the other, and we each grasped an ankle. She groped for the iron bars, found them after an instant, and drew herself toward them.

”Now, push me down,” she said.