And now, he, himself, was imprisoned there.
But for luck, he might have fallen the whole ninety feet; for the ledge did not extend far along the face of the cliff.

At almost any other spot his tumble might have meant-- Cyril shuddered a little; and pursued the grisly theme no further.

He was safe enough, till help should come.

And, here, the blast of the wind did not reach him.

Also, by cuddling low in the litter of leaves and fallen brush, he could ward off a little of the icy cold.
He crouched there; shaking and worn out.