STEINDOR [gets up, and walks out on the brink].
INGOLF. It looks uncanny down there! [Warning him.] Don't go too near the edge.
STEINDOR [laughing]. Steindor can take care of himself!
INGOLF. Have you ever fallen, Steindor?
STEINDOR. Oh, well, I've had my share of that.
INGOLF. How did it affect you?
STEINDOR. I don't wish myself a better death, if the fall is high enough. One winter I was going over a gully, clogged with a frozen snow-pile. I had to pass it; so I forced my stick down into the pile, and leaped over it. I tried to pull it out as I came over, but it stuck tight, and threw me backwards. I knew nothing more, until I woke up at the foot of the rocks, and saw the blood stains on the snow. I had scratched myself on the edge as I grazed over it.
INGOLF. And otherwise you got off alright?
STEINDOR. Quite alright. I landed on the soft snow. Had it been rocky below, I would have died instantly. Since that day, I say falling from a height isn't the worst death. You lose all consciousness in falling.
INGOLF. To fall from here would be horrible.