Mechanically she picked up a stick at her feet. It was the sailor's
wand of investigation. He snatched it from her hands and threw it away
among the trees.

"That is a dangerous alpenstock," he said. "The wood is unreliable. It
might break. I will cut you a better one," and he swung the axe against
a tall sapling.

Iris mentally described him as "funny." She followed him in the upward
curve of the ascent, for the grade was not difficult and the ground
smooth enough, the storms of years having pulverized the rock and
driven sand into its clefts. The persistent inroads of the trees had
done the rest. Beyond the flight of birds and the scampering of some
tiny monkeys overhead, they did not disturb a living creature.

The crest of the hill was tree-covered, and they could see nothing
beyond their immediate locality until the sailor found a point higher
than the rest, where a rugged collection of hard basalt and the
uprooting of some poon trees provided an open space elevated above the
ridge.

For a short distance the foothold was precarious. Jenks helped the girl
in this part of the climb. His strong, gentle grasp gave her
confidence. She was flushed with exertion when they stood together on
the summit of this elevated perch. They could look to every point of
the compass except a small section on the south-west. Here the trees
rose behind them until the brow of the precipice was reached.

The emergence into a sunlit panorama of land and sea, though expected,
was profoundly enthralling. They appeared to stand almost exactly in