“I’m not quite sure,” answered Weston. “I think I let it slide. Anyway, I shoved it over the edge. It went down too quickly for me to remember exactly what it did. I’m afraid there are a few rather big scratches on it.”
“But how did you get down?”
“I believe I slid with it.”
It occurred to Ida, who was commencing to feel a little ashamed of having exerted her authority in such a manner, that she could afford to be generous.
“I’m sorry I put you to so much trouble,” she said. “But why didn’t you tell me it would be difficult?”
Weston ceased paddling a moment, and looked at her steadily.
“It’s my place to do what I’m told. Besides, you said that you didn’t want to go back by the trail.”
A slight flush crept into Ida’s face.
“Wouldn’t it have been better if you had done as I wanted, and shot the fall?”