"Your face is all over with blood!"
"That's a mere joke, too. Would you like me to do it again?"
"No, no!" cried the child, catching the Indian by the jacket.
I dressed l'Encuerado's hurts, and we were about to continue our journey.
"I say," said Lucien, archly, just as the Indian was hoisting his basket on to his back; "how would it have been if I had been perched on it?"
"Then I should not have fallen," replied l'Encuerado, with the utmost gravity.
In a minute or two more we were at the foot of the mountain, when Lucien, overjoyed that the descent was accomplished, gave a leap which showed me that the back of his trowsers had suffered in the late struggle.
"There's a pretty beginning!" I cried; "how did you manage to get your trowsers in that state?"
"It is my fault," said Sumichrast, with consternation; "wishing to descend more rapidly, and fearing another tumble, I advised him to sit down and slide carefully. I did not foresee the very natural results of such a plan."
"Well, papa! it does not matter in the country."