y."

Phil murmured her appreciation. They had paused in the middle of the
course and were idly cutting figures, keeping within easy conversational
range.

"Your initials are hard to do," said Holton, backing into line beside
her and indicating the letters his skates had traced on the surface. The
"P. K." was neatly done. Phil without comment etched a huge "C" and then
cut an "H" within its long loop.

"Splendid! You are the best skater I ever saw! I'd like to cut that out
and keep it in cold storage as a souvenir."

This did not please her so much as his references to her hidden
ambitions, and seeing that she failed to respond, and fearing one of her
taunts, he led the way toward the gorge. It was four o'clock, and
already shadows were darkening the deep vale where most of the skaters
had now gathered about the bonfires. Phil's popularity was attested by
the tone in which the company greeted her. She sat down on a log and
entered into their give-and-take light-heartedly, while Holton
unfastened her skates. He had found her coat and thrown it round her
shoulders. He was very thoughtful and attentive, and his interest in her
had not gone unremarked.

"We were just wondering," said one of the girls, "whether anybody here
was sport enough to scale that wall in the winter? We've saved that for
you, Phil."

Phil lifted her head and scanned the steep slope. She had scaled it
often; in fact one of her earliest remembered adventures had been an
inglorious tumble into the creek as the reward of her temerity. That was
in her sixth year when she had clambered up the cliff a few yards in
pursuit of a chipmunk.

"I haven't done that for several moons; but I have done it, children.
There wouldn't be any point in doing it, of course, if anybody else had
done it--I mean to-day, with ice all over the side."

"You mustn't think of it, Phil," said Mrs. Holton, glancing up
anxiously.

"I shan't think of it, Mrs. Holton, unless somebody says it can't be
done. I'm not going to take a dare."

"Just for that," said Charles, "I'm going to do it myself."

"Better not tackle it," said one of the college boys, eyeing the cliff
critically. "I've done it in summer, and it's hard enough then; but you
can see how the ice and snow cover all the footholds. You'd have to do
it with ropes the way they climb the Alps."

Holton looked at Phil as she sat huddled in her coat. It was in her eyes
that she did not think he would attempt it, and he