I felt that my climbing about on the top of the cliff had loosened or cracked the compressed sand.

Shock and I had jumped about over it when we threw down the wood we had gathered, and that seemed to be the explanation of the mishap.
But I had no time to think of this now, for the thought that perhaps Shock was killed, suffocated, came over me with terrible force, and I bent over him, feeling his face, his heart, and hands.
His heart was beating fast, and his hands were warm, but though I spoke to him over and over again, in the darkness, there was no answer, and with a cry of despair I threw myself on my knees, when all at once he shouted: "Hullo!" "Shock," I cried, "I'm here." "What yer do that for ?" he cried fiercely.
"I didn't do anything." "Yes, yer did," he cried.

"Yer threw a lump o' sand on my head.

I'm half blind, and my ears is full.

Just wait till I gets hold on yer, I'll pay yer for it." Then he began panting, and spitting, and muttering about his eyes, and at last--"Here, where are yer ?" "I'm here, close by you," I said.