"
"And a bit of rotten scaffold," added Friedel. "Perhaps he is a
builder going to examine it! Up higher, higher!"
"A builder!" said Ebbo; "a man with a head and foot like that should
be a chamois hunter! Shouldst thou deem it worse than the Red Eyrie,
Friedel?"
"Yea, truly! The depth beneath is plainer! There would be no
climbing there without--"
"Without what, cousin?" asked Wildschloss.
"Without great cause," said Friedel. "It is fearful! He is like a
fly against the sky."
"Beaten again!" muttered Ebbo; "I did think that none of these town-
bred fellows could surpass us when it came to a giddy height! Who
can he be?"
"Look! look!" burst out Friedel. "The saints protect him! He is on
that narrowest topmost ledge--measuring; his heel is over the
parapet--half his foot!"
"Holding on by the rotten scaffold pole! St. Barbara be his speed;
but he is a brave man!" shouted Ebbo. "Oh! the pole has broken."
"Heaven forefend!" cried Wildschloss, with despair on his face unseen
by the boys, for Friedel had hidden his eyes, and Ebbo was straining
his with the intense gaze of horror.
Pages:
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302