close the climber saw him catch at a young sapling that was quite dead and he called out quickly not to trust it—but not quickly enough. The runner caught it, and as he swung around on it, it snapped under his weight and the rash one came rolling downwards headlong into a needle-cushioned hollow.
The climber sprang to his aid, but the runner rolled over and sat up dazed but unhurt, but ruefully rubbing his head. He stared up and the climber stared down.
"Young man," admonished the climber, seeing the other had hurt nothing but his feelings, "if that had happened ten feet further up, you would have had a nasty fall on that ledge above you and a broken head might have been your lot. It is all right to run down and great fun—but if you do, you will have to look critically at anything you catch hold of; if you swing in that rash fashion on dead saplings or dead branches you'll easily break your neck. Don't you know that?"
