pressure on one side, to some extent direct it. Still they were going
very fast and at first she was nearly pulled off. She tightened her grasp
with her hands until she felt her gloves split, and then risked another
glance ahead.

The rocks were very close, but the sledge had passed the top, and she
could see a few yards down the dark side as they followed the curving
edge of the crag. The sledge was now running nearly straight down the
hill, but the curve bent in towards them, and she could not tell if they
would shoot past the widest spot or plunge over.

"Perhaps you had better let go," Thorn said hoarsely.

Grace shook her head. If she dropped off, it was uncertain whether she
would stop until she had rolled some distance; perhaps she might not stop
before she reached the edge of the crag. Anyhow, she did not mean to let
go, and tried to catch the snow with her toes in an effort to help Thorn
to steer the sledge. It swerved a little but rushed on again, and she saw
that the edge of the rock curved in yet. She doubted if they were far
enough off to get past the bend.

Then she saw that Thorn had slipped farther back in order to increase the
drag of his legs. His face was dark with blood and she heard his heavy
breathing as he tried to change their course. She helped all she could
while the snow rolled across her dress, and then for a moment lifted her
head. Powdered snow beat into her face and nearly blinded her, but she
thought there was now an unbroken slant in front. They must have passed
the middle of the bend, although Thorn was between her and the side on
which it lay and she was not sure yet. She remembered with horrible
distinctness how she had once stood at the bottom of the crag and seen a