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.