The Buccaneer Farmer, page 59 by Harold Bindloss
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glow the cold had brought to her skin. Moreover, he liked her joyous confidence when they tried the luge on a risky slide. She was as steady-nerved and plucky as a man, and was marked by a fine fastidiousness that did not characterize other girls he knew.
"I think this is about the best spot we have seen," he said. "The drop is steep but regular, although I expect we'll be breathless when we get to the bottom. Would you like to try? If not, perhaps somebody else will come."
He looked at the others, and they looked at the white declivity. It was much longer than any they had gone down, and a girl laughed.
"To begin with, we'll watch you. I was upset on the last slide and it's rather a long way to roll down to the dale."
Grace lay down on a cushion with her head just behind the toboggan's curved front; Thorn found room farther back, with his legs in the snow, and amidst some laughter and joking the others pushed; them off. The surface was hard, and for a time the toboggan ran smoothly and steadily; then the pace got faster, and showers of snow flew up like spray. It beat into Grace's eyes and whipped her face, until she bent her head in the shelter of the curled front.
The sharp hiss the steel runners made was louder, the wind began to scream, and she got something of a shock when she cautiously looked up. It was hard to see through the snowy spray, but the top of the crag looked ominously near. Glancing down hill with smarting eyes, she thought the slope, which, from the top, had seemed to fall evenly to the dale, was also inclined towards the crag. She could not see much of the latter, but there was a fringe of dark rock where the white declivity broke off.
"Aren't we getting too near?" she shouted.
"Nearer than I thought," Thorn gasped. "Not sure I can swing the sledge. Can you get back and help?"
Grace braced herself. Alan's nerve was good, but there was a disturbed note in his voice; besides he would not have asked her help unless it was needed. Wriggling