“It’s quite simple now,” says Ronnie. “Do you mean you think I’m ready to ski down the hill?”
The question gives me a chill. Skiing on a plane surface and skiing down hill is as different as walking in broad daylight and skating in the dark with roller skates.
“You’d better stick to just what you’re doing for a couple days,” I advises. “You’re getting along swell.”
“I feel quite confident,” replies Ronnie. “This is mostly a matter of balance ... something I’ve always been good at. I walked our clothes line once. Everything would have been all right if it hadn’t busted.”
“Yes,” says I, “Most things would be okay if something didn’t happen. But you use your own judgment, Ronnie. If you think you’re ready to go down the hill, it’s up to you. Only don’t blame me if you suffer any ... er ... minor accident.”
“How could I blame you?” Ronnie wants to know. “I’m awfully grateful for all you’ve taught me. This is the most fun I’ve had in months ... maybe years....”
“That’s fine,” I replies. “Here’s hoping you keep on having fun.”
“That’s why I want to go down the hill,” declares Ronnie. “I imagine that would give me a real sensation.”
“It’s the big thrill in skiing,” Mack puts in, being eager to see Ronnie make his first attempt. “Just follow my tracks, Ronnie, if you decide to go down, and you can’t go wrong!”
“I—I believe I’ll do it,” says Ronnie, after taking a deep breath. “It’s a long ways down. I probably won’t be able to ski back up the hill. That looks a lot harder.”