At the end
of less than another yard of this exploring, his fingers came
again to the edge of the world and were thrust out over
nothingness.
With hideous suddenness, Cyril understood where he was; and what
had happened to him and why. He knew he had followed the fence
for a full mile, AWAY from the road; through the nearer woods,
and gradually upward until he had come the line of hazels on the
lip of the ninety-foot ravine which dipped down into a
swamp-stretch known as "Pancake Hollow."
That was what he had done. In trying to skirt the hazels, he had
stepped over the cliff-edge, and had dropped five feet or more to
a rather narrow ledge that juts out over the ravine.
Well did he remember this ledge. More than once, on walks with
the Mistress and the Master, he had paused to look down on it and
to think fun it would be to imprison someone there and to stand
above, guying the victim. It had been a sweet thought. And now,
he, himself, was imprisoned there.
But for luck, he might have fallen the whole ninety feet; for the
ledge did not extend far along the face of the cliff.
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