In an instant he had taken in the situation and the humour of it.
"But it is the good Cinders!" he said aloud, and extended a fearless hand.

"So, my friend, so! The little mistress waits." Cinders' growl became a snarl.

He sucked up his breath in furious protest, threatening murder.

But the stranger's hand was not withdrawn.
On the contrary it advanced upon him with the utmost deliberation till Cinders was compelled to jerk backwards to avoid it.
So jerking, he missed his footing as his mistress had before him, lost his balance, and rolled, cursing, clinging, and clambering, over the edge of the rock.
Had the Frenchman laughed at that moment he would have made an enemy for life.

But most fortunately he did not regard an antagonist's downfall as a fit subject for mirth.