He struck out again. They were climbing a long slope that ended in a fringe of timber. At the top he waited, watching her as she labored up heavily. The look he gave her when she reached him said, “I told you so.” Before them lay a valley, beyond which was another crest of pines. “How far now?” Betty asked, panting from the climb. “Just beyond that ridge.” “That all?” she said indifferently. “Thought it was a long way.” “We’ll coast into the valley,” he replied curtly. She watched him gliding into the dip of the slope. He was not an expert on runners as her father was, but he had learned the trick of the thing pretty well. It was in line with his thoroughness not to be a novice long at anything he set out to master. Betty shot down after him, gathering impetus as she went. She was watching the path ahead, and it was not till she was close upon him that she saw Merrick had fallen. She swerved to the left, flinging out her arms to prevent herself from going down. Unsteadily she teetered for a moment, but righted herself with an effort and kept going till she reached the bottom. Merrick was on his feet when she turned. “Anything wrong?” she called. “One of my skis broken.” She went back to him. “How did it happen?” “Dipped into a rock under the snow.” His voice was sullen. Like many men who do well whatever they undertake, he resented any mishap due to lack of his own skill. His sense of superiority would have been satisfied if the accident had befallen her instead of him. Betty did not smile, but, nevertheless, she was maliciously pleased. It would bring him down a peg, anyhow. “What’ll you do?” she asked. “I suppose I can hobble along somehow. Perhaps I’d better take your skis and hurry on. I could borrow a pair at the cabin and come back for you. Yes, I think that would be better.” She shook her head. “No, I’ll go on and send Mr. Black with a pair. I’d rather not wait here in the cold. I’ll not be long. You can keep moving.” This did not suit Merrick at all. He did not want to be regarded as an incompetent who had bogged down in the snow. It hurt his pride that Betty should go on and send back help to him, especially when they felt criss-cross toward each other. “I’d rather you didn’t,” he said. “You don’t know who is at the cabin. That tramp Cig may be there--or Prowers. They’re dangerous, both of them. Yesterday they tried to blow up the men working on the tunnel.” “You can lend me your revolver, then, if you like. But I’m not afraid. Mr. Black wouldn’t let them hurt me even if they wanted to.” “It’s not very cold. I’d be back in a little while. And, as you say, you could keep moving.” “No, I’m going on,” she answered, and her quiet voice told him she had made up her mind. He unbuckled his belt and handed it to her. “You’ll be safer with that .38,” he said. What he thought is not of record.