"What are you going to fight WITH--your fists ?" "Yes--or sticks and stones--I'd just like to!" And Terry squared off and tapped Jeff softly on the jaw.

"Just for instance," he said.
"Anyhow," he went on, "we could get back to our machine and clear out." "If it's there," I cautiously suggested.
"Oh, don't croak, Van! If it isn't there, we'll find our way down somehow--the boat's there, I guess." It was hard on Terry, so hard that he finally persuaded us to consider a plan of escape.

It was difficult, it was highly dangerous, but he declared that he'd go alone if we wouldn't go with him, and of course we couldn't think of that.
It appeared he had made a pretty careful study of the environment.

From our end window that faced the point of the promontory we could get a fair idea of the stretch of wall, and the drop below.

Also from the roof we could make out more, and even, in one place, glimpse a sort of path below the wall.
"It's a question of three things," he said.