Was there no hope but to scale back to the public path?
"Stop a minute," he said, and, digging his heels sideways into the steep bank of red clay, he began nimbly to mount.

He looked across at every tree-foot.

At last he found what he wanted.

Two beech-trees side by side on the hill held a little level on the upper face between their roots.
It was littered with damp leaves, but it would do.

The fishermen were perhaps sufficiently out of sight.