"What's the matter?" I asked, for he was pale under the brown tan.
For an instant he did not answer. Then, with his lips trembling
slightly, he smiled again. "I thought you were going to be killed,
that's all," said he, "so I stopped you. You were looking back at me,
but I saw that--that you were just going to tread on a stone which
Fanny had loosened with her hoof as she passed. If you had stepped
there, before you could regain your balance, you--but there's no use
talking of it. Only do look where you're walking, won't you, when
we're on a path like this? Now we can go on."
"Why, you little duffer, you're as white as a ghost!" I exclaimed. "If
the stone had slipped I should have jumped back. The path isn't really
so narrow. It only gives that effect because it's steep, and hangs
over the edge of a precipice. Still, many thanks for your solicitude."
"I believe, after all, I'll have to rest for a minute," the Boy said
apologetically. "I feel--a little queer. You needn't wait. I'm sorry
you should see me like this. You'll think that there's nothing to
choose between me and a girl. But I'm not always a coward."
"I know that well enough," I assured him. "You're not a coward now.
But come on. You shall rest when the path widens, where the others are
stopping."
I caught his hand to pull him along, since we could not walk abreast,
and it was icy cold.
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