“I—don't know,”—she hesitated. “If I should fall?”
“Stay a moment! Is your belt strong?” He pointed to a girdle of yellow leather which caught her tunic around her small waist.
“Yes,” she said eagerly, “it's real leather.”
He gently slipped the edge of the handkerchief under it and knotted it. They were thus linked together by a foot of handkerchief.
“I feel much safer,” she said, with a faint smile.
“But if I should fall,” he remarked, looking into her eyes, “you would go too! Have you thought of that?”
“Yes.” Her previous charming smile returned. “It would be really Jack and Jill this time.”
They passed out on the trail. “Now I must take YOUR arm,” he said laughingly; “not you MINE.” He passed his arm under hers, holding it firmly. It was the one he had touched. For the first few steps her uncertain feet took no hold of the sloping mountain side, which seemed to slip sideways beneath her. He was literally carrying her on his shoulder. But in a few moments she saw how cleverly he balanced himself, always leaning toward the hillside, and presently she was able to help him by a few steps. She expressed her surprise at his skill.
“It's nothing; I carry a pail of water up here without spilling a drop.”
She stiffened slightly under this remark, and indeed so far overdid her attempt to walk without his aid, that her foot slipped on a stone, and she fell outward toward the abyss. But in an instant his arm was transferred from her elbow to her waist, and in the momentum of his quick recovery they both landed panting against the mountain side.