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 cleared the corner, and stood full in the wind on the south side of the castle, directly above the two protruding rocks that held the fishing-boat in their grip, the crowds rushed down the shore and along the top of the Contrary Head to keep him in view. What other mad act would the lad attempt?

"He'll go round to the west, and come back on the shingle."

"Not him, man; the shore there is in six feet of water."

Danny emerged presently. He was seen to tie one end of his rope through a hole in the old castle wall to a huge stone built into it. The other end was still about his waist. "He's going down the rocks to the boat." "Gerr out of that. He'd be cut in pieces." "Aw, dear, the poor boy's not mad enough for that, anyway."

But Danny was going down the rocks. Sharp as needles, with their thousand teeth turned upward, slippery and icy cold, Danny set his foot on them. He began his descent with his back to the sea. Clouds of spray rose from every third wave and hid him from the people. But he was seen to be going down foot after foot. What had seemed like madness before began to look like courage now that success appeared possible. It was neither—it was despair. "Aw, beautiful!" "Beautiful, extraordinary!" "It's the young Masther Christian he's going down for." "Well, well, the masther was kind to the boy astonishing." "Poor lad, there's a heart at him!"

Meanwhile Christian was clinging to the bowsprit. He was chilled near to losing his hold. He saw Danny