Although the air was bracingly keen the afternoon was calm and the scattered clouds scarcely moved across the sky. The snow in the valley shone a delicate gray, and soft lights and shadows rested on the hills. A peak that rose above the edge of the lofty moor gleamed pale-yellow against a background of deep blue. Grace noted the tranquil beauty of the landscape, but hesitated now and then as she climbed the steep road out of the dale.

She had come to meet Kit Askew, and now she reviewed her reasons for doing so they did not look very sound. In fact, if Kit approved the plan she meant to suggest, she would perhaps be meddling unjustifiably with her father's business. After all, however, it was really not his business. He had allowed himself to be persuaded to help Hayes and the latter's accomplice, Bell, without quite understanding what this implied. Her plan would prevent his doing an injustice he did not really mean to do.

She suspected that there was a touch of sophistry about her arguments, but would not own that she had come because she wanted to meet Kit. It was necessary that she should meet him; yet when she stopped at a gate and heard the tramp of horses' feet behind, her color came and went. For all that, she looked very calm, when Kit pulled up his team, and went forward to open the gate. He made an abrupt movement as he recognized her, but his eyes shone with satisfaction.

"I suppose you are going for some peat," she said.

Kit said he was, and added that Peter and two or three neighbors were loading the stone-boats on the moor.

"Then, I wonder whether you could let me have a small quantity when you come down?"

"You can have a load if you want."

Grace laughed. "Two or three basketsful would be enough, and I don't want them for myself. I went to see Mrs. Waite and found her old father crippled by rheumatism. The kitchen was cold and damp, but she had a very little fire. She said her coal was nearly gone and she had got no peat."

"Thank you for telling me; I didn't know," said Kit. "I'll take her a sack as I go down the dale." He paused and hesitated, with his hand on the open gate. "But it's rather cold. Am I keeping you?"

Grace noted with some satisfaction that he did not seem to think it remarkable she had met him at the lonely spot.

"Oh, no," she said. "I am going up the hill. I like the view from the crag and sometimes go to watch the sunset. When it shines over the shoulder of the Pike it throws wonderful lights on the snow."

Kit agreed, and after he started his horses they went on together. By and by Grace resumed: "When I met you yesterday, your father said the sledges often ran down too fast and you could not put up a proper load."

"That is a drawback. You see, there's plenty peat cut; the trouble is to bring it down. After the heavy rain, we couldn't drag the stone-boats across the boggy moor, and although the snow has made this easy, it hasn't helped much otherwise. If we put up a big load, there's some danger of the sledges overtaking and knocking down the horses where the track is steep."

"And you can't see a way of getting over the difficulty?"

Kit said he could not and Grace's eyes twinkled.

"Then I can. I'll show you a way, if you're not too proud to take advice from a girl."

"Certainly not," Kit said, smiling. "I don't know why you think
I'm proud."

"Then perhaps you're obstinate; some of the dalesfolk are."

"We're slow. We like to try things properly; and then, perhaps we stick to them longer than is needful if we find them good. But caution's prudent."

"You're very cautious now," Grace rejoined. "You don't seem curious about my plan. Are you afraid it isn't practical?"

"No," said Kit, rather earnestly; "since it's yours, it's no doubt good." Then he pulled himself up and added with a twinkle: "But I haven't heard it yet."

"Well, while your difficulty is that the peat comes down too fast, I think it does not go fast enough. You are afraid about your horses, but you needn't use them. The stone-boats would run down alone. Do you understand now?"

Kit started. "I expect you have found the way, Miss Osborn, and we owe you some thanks. In fact, you're cleverer than the lot!"

"The admission doesn't seem to hurt you," Grace rejoined. "But I imagine to feel you had to make it was something of a shock."

"No," said Kit, with a laugh she liked. "We're often dull and our womenfolk have helped us much. But somehow I did not expect—"

He stopped, and Grace gave him a level glance.

"You mean you did not expect help from me?"

"Well," he said, "I suppose I did mean something like that"

"Then I'm glad you owned it, because it allows me to clear the ground. I don't want poor people to be cold in winter in order that Bell may get rich. Neither does my father want it—you must believe this! He doesn't know all that goes on; Hayes hides things from him. There is no reason I shouldn't help you to spoil Bell's plot."

Kit was silent for a few moments. The girl had pluck and he liked her frankness. She was trying to persuade herself Osborn was not unjust, and, although he imagined she found it hard, he did not mean to make it harder. One must respect her staunchness.

"Bell is our real antagonist and he's an awkward man to beat," he said. "However, the hint you have given us ought to be useful. I'll look for a way down when we get to the top."

Grace warned him about the inclination of the hillside to the rocks and stopped at the bottom of the crag.

"I think I'll go across the hill and watch the first sledge come down, if you're not too long," she said and paused for a moment. "Perhaps you needn't tell the others it was my plan."

Kit said he would not do so and was strangely satisfied as he went on with his horses. He understood her hesitation; it was delightful to feel that she had given him her confidence and they shared a secret. At the top, he found the others had loaded the sledges and were ready to start. Since the dales folk are conservative, he had expected some opposition to his plan, but they listened attentively and an old man supported him.

"I mind hearing my father say that yan hard winter after a wet back end o' year, they let peat run doon t' fell. What has been done yance can be done again."

Kit said nothing; for the other, by using a favorite motto, had banished his companions' dislike of novelties.

"It was deeun no' so long sin'," another remarked. "In my time, they browt slate doon on t' stane-boats across the Fleet-pike scree. Pushed them off at top and let them go."

There was some further talk and when they resolved to make the experiment Kit went down the hill. He said he wanted to see how the first sledge crossed an awkward pitch, but it counted for much that he saw a small figure below. Grace looked satisfied with his excuse for joining her and they waited for a time while the men above moved the first load to the edge. The sunshine had gone and it was getting cold; the shadows in the dale had faded from blue to dusky gray and the frost was keen. All was very quiet, but now and then distant voices and the musical rattle of chains came down through the nipping air.

"It will be dark before they're ready if they're not quick," said Kit, and Grace looked up the hill.

"I think they're starting the sledge. If there had been nobody about, I would have liked to come down with the peat. You can't imagine how exciting it is."

They watched the sledge slip over the brow of the descent. It got larger as it came down, but it did not run as fast as the toboggan. One could see it rock and swerve, shaking off loose peats, where the ground was broken, and Grace glanced at the steep pitch Kit had come to watch.

"It will go down there with a splendid rush, but I don't think it will upset," she said. "My plan is going to work."

The sledge got nearer. They saw the snow fly up about its front and heard the scream the runners made. There was something fascinating about its smooth but fast descent, and as it approached the top of the dip they moved back rather unwillingly to let it pass. When it was nearly level with them it slowed on the changing incline and Grace noted that there was a narrow space between the back of the frame and the peat. She gave Kit a quick look as she said, "If one wanted, I think one could jump on."

"Let's try!" said Kit impulsively, and they ran forward.

He reached the sledge first, and throwing himself down held out his hand to Grace, who fell upon the runner log. Kit pulled her up and although the light was going saw her face glow after the effort she had made. Her eyes sparkled with excitement, but Kit felt half embarrassed because he did not know whether he had persuaded her to venture on an undignified adventure or she had persuaded him. It was a relief to hear her laugh.

"This is rather ridiculous, and I don't know if we can hold on," she said as she tried to grasp the shaking peat.

The sledge ran faster and lurched violently as it plunged over the edge of the steep drop. A shower of peat fell on them, the speed got furious, and they heard the runners scream, but they were sheltered from the rush of wind and could not see ahead. After a few moments Grace looked up with twinkling eyes.

"You could drop off if you liked. Are you, sorry you came?"

"No," said Kit. "I came because I wanted, and now I'm here I'll stop."

"I really think you mean to be nice," Grace rejoined with amusement and Kit understood; she saw he did not mean to admit that she had suggested the adventure, but this was not important. It was something of an adventure for a girl like Miss Osborn, although her having embarked on it gave him a delightful feeling of partnership in a harmless folly.

"I hope there's nothing in the way," he said. "We're going very fast and
Hindbeck farm can't be far off. I ought to have looked before we jumped."

"It is too late now," Grace answered with an excited laugh. "I imagine you're not as cautious as you think; but we won't talk. It's hard to hold on and I haven't much breath."

Kit moved nearer and, seizing the edge of the frame, put his arm round her waist. She did not seem to resent this, and for a time they sped down hill with their feet plowing through the snow. Kit did not care how long the swift rush lasted, but by and by he began to get anxious. The sledge had gone a long way since they jumped on, and the hillside was steep to the bottom, where it met the Hindbeck pastures. While he wondered whether Grace would slide far and get shaken if he made her let go, the sledge tilted up. It stopped with a violent shock, he heard stones fall, and was thrown off amidst a shower of peat. When he got up Grace was sitting in the snow some distance off and he ran towards her. She had lost her small fur cap and her hair was loose, but to his relief she laughed.

"Oh," she said, "it really was ridiculous! But the plan will work. The peat will run down!"

"That is so," Kit agreed, with a breathless chuckle. "I think it would have run into the Hindbeck kitchen but for the wall."

"Then it was a wall that stopped us. It felt like a rock."

"Come and see," said Kit, holding out his hand to help her up.

"I think," she said, "I'd rather you looked for my hat."

He went off and it was two or three minutes before he found the hat among the scattered peat. When he came back it was nearly dark, but Grace's hair was no longer untidy, and the snow that had smeared her clothes had gone. She walked with him to where the sledge rested on a pile of stones, and looking through the gap, they saw a woman with a lantern cross a narrow pasture between them and a house.

"What's t' matter?" the woman shouted and turned round. "Janet, gan on and see what's brokken t' wa'."

Another figure came out of the gloom and Grace looked at Kit.

"I don't know who Janet is, but I do know Mrs. Creighton. She talks," she said. "If you'll stop and explain matters, I'll go down the lonning. It was a glorious adventure! Good-night!"

She stole away round the corner of the wall and Kit, who understood that he was, so to speak, to cover her retreat, waited until the two women came up. The one who carried the lantern was fat and homely; the other was slender and looked like Janet Bell.

"It's Kit, an' stane-boat stucken in t' wa'!" said the first as she held up the light "But where's team? An' hoo did you get here? There's nea road this way."

Kit laughed. "It's lucky I left the horses at the top. This is a new plan for bringing down the peat and it certainly works, although next time we must try to stop a little sooner."

Mrs. Creighton asked him some questions before she understood what had happened. He was in the light, because she had put the lantern on the wall, and although he could not see her companion's face, he suspected from Janet's quietness that she was studying him.

"Then you left the others on the moor," the girl remarked.

"I did," said Kit. "We sent the stone-boat off by itself, and it was half-way down when I jumped on."

"Then none of the men came with you?"

"No," said Kit, who felt annoyed because he saw Janet suspected something. "I went down to watch the sledge and see if we had hit the best track."

"It's strange!" said Janet. "I thought there was somebody else when I first came out. Still, of course, it was nearly dark."

Kit was puzzled because he could not tell how much Janet had really seen, and thought the situation needed careful handling. If she knew Miss Osborn had been with him, it would be a mistake to make the thing look significant by pretending that she had not; but it was possible that Janet did not know. Then Grace had hinted that she did not want their adventure talked about.

"I don't expect you could see very well if you had just come out from the light in the kitchen," he replied. "Anyhow, none of the men came with me and I must go back and tell them not to send off another lot. We'll see about mending your wall to-morrow, Mrs. Creighton."

He went off to a gate that opened into the lonning. This was the wisest plan, because he did not want to talk to Janet. He was half afraid of her, but not because he thought she sympathized with her father's plots; it was known that Bell and his daughter quarreled. The girl was a dangerous coquette and had tactfully hinted that she rather approved Kit. This had alarmed Kit, who knew she was clever and resolute.

When he reached the lane he stopped abruptly as he remembered something, and took out his pipe, although he did not mean to smoke. He must be cautious, since he was not sure if Janet had gone in. Striking a match, he held it between his hands as if he were going to light his pipe and stooped in the shelter of a wall.

The light shone on the ground and he knitted his brows as he saw sharp footsteps in the snow. The farm people did not wear boots that would leave marks like these; moreover, the footsteps would lead anybody who thought it worth while to follow them to the spot where the sledge upset. Kit threw down the match, and frowned as he went on again.