Personally, Ralph considered that so far he had lost his wager. Peggy Webster did not care for him in the way he had announced he could influence her to care. But he had never again mentioned the matter of his bet with Terry Benton, not feeling proud of it. However, he had still continued to devote himself to Peggy, and ostensibly for the reason he had given his two companions about ten days before.
But, now, sliding down among the rocks, Ralph’s thought was undeniably fixed upon himself. He was hoping to get out of an uncomfortable position without loss to his own dignity. He would like to have gone back to their original resting place and rejoined the rest of the Camp Fire party without descending another yard deeper into the rocky bed of the earth. But the thing was impossible and he made the best of it. Ralph Marshall was lazy, but he was not a coward. Moreover, there was no spot where one could stop and turn back. His hope lay ahead. Once they reached a flat place, he meant to suggest returning.
Two or three times Ralph felt dizzy. He had not dreamed of such weakness in himself and would not give way to it.
Then he felt the dizziness coming on again. This time he did not care. There—just a few feet beyond—their trail widened and a ledge of rock jutted out over the precipice on their left side.
Here, at least, was a spot large enough to rest upon and to get one’s breath.
Peggy Webster was perhaps only three feet behind Ralph when he made his discovery.
He walked on to the ledge of rock, beckoning her to follow. As the flattened surface was so small, he was forced to go close to the edge in order to make room for her.
And Peggy did follow him. She was standing only a few inches away when the rock Ralph was on crumbled.
His reaching out and seizing her as he fell was not cowardly—it was only instinctive.
He went over backwards, but she was facing him and was able to keep her footing an instant longer.