"There's some truth in that. But it's the fault of human nature; you can't blame the machines."
"The machines are to be admired," the girl returned. "One blames the men who use them with the wrong object."
Harding smiled; but before he could answer, Broadwood came up with Kenwyne to announce that everything was ready.
"You'll have to be careful," he warned Harding. "We'll lock the back wheels before we hook on the tackles. Will you let the front team loose?"
"No; I may want them to swing me round the bends. First of all, I'll take a look at what you've done."
He walked down the trail with them and examined the fastenings of a big iron block through which ran a wire rope with a tackle at one end.
"The clevis is rather small, but it's the strongest I could find," Kenwyne said.
A little farther on they stopped where the bank fell nearly perpendicularly for some distance below the outer edge of the road.
"We banked the snow up here and beat it firm," he pointed out. "For all that, it would be wise to keep well to the inside."
"We'll shift the tackle when I get to the bend above," Harding replied, and went down to the bridge. It was rudely built of logs and had no parapet.