ing Paris is fortunate enough to keep you," and here he
smiled deprecatingly and shook his head as if afraid such good fortune
could not be true. "I have just conceived the idea of having a
steeple-chase on the ice. 'Tis but a poor little hurdle," and he
shrugged his shoulders disdainfully, "but 'twill have to do. We will
take fifty yards start, Monsieur, and clear the fauteuil, rough ice and
all!"

He broke out again in his mocking laugh, and, sculling rapidly backward,
soon put the distance between him and the improvised barrier. Calvert
turned and followed, not without some inward disgust at the trap laid
for him, although outwardly he wore the quiet air habitual to him, and,
in spite of his disgust, he could not help but admire the reckless
courage and activity which would dare such a thing, for 'twas evident
now that the jump had not only to be dangerously long but high also, and
any failure to clear the chair and broken ice would inevitably result in
a ludicrous, probably serious mishap.

"'Tis evident that we cannot both jump at the same time," says Monsieur
de St. Aulaire, courteously. "Shall we try for the honor?" and he drew a
coin from his pocket and lightly tossed it upward. 'Twas the fashion in
Paris to decide everything by the fall of a coin. "C'est a vous,
Monsieur," he says, looking at the gold piece _as_ it lay face upward
in his palm, and he laughed lightly again as if not displeased with his
luck. As for Calvert, he was no less pleased, for he suddenly felt
impatient and eager for the trial. He gave a glance at the fastenings of
his skates and then, sweeping around to the starting-place, he skated
slowly at first but with ever-increasing speed. As he reached the gilt
chair he paused for the infinitesimal part of a second as a horse does
at a hurdle, and then, with one clean spring, was over safely. As he
slid along the smooth ice, unable to check his impetus, he could hear
the applause of the spectators on the shore and the exclamations and
laughter of the ladies. Suddenly he bethought him of St. Aulaire. He
turned quickly and was just in time to see St. Aulaire start off. There
was a gallant recklessness in his bearing, but Calvert noted that his
movements seemed heavy, though his pace accelerated greatly as he neared
the improvised hurdle. Indeed, he was coming too fast, and, as he
reached the unlucky fauteuil, he was going with such speed that he could
neither calculate the length of the jump nor