He moved and opened his eyes.
She started, and the colour flooded her face as if her lips had quite touched his, and her eyes grew heavy as, breathing painfully, she waited for him to entirely recover his intelligence and to speak.
"The steer!" he said at last, feebly.
She moistened her lips, and looked away from him as if she were afraid lest he should see what was in her eyes.

"The steer is all right; but--but you!" He forced a laugh.

"Oh, I'm all right, too," he said.

He looked around hazily.

"I must have come a smasher over that bank!" Then he saw that he was lying with his head upon her knee, and with a hot flush, the man's shame for his weakness in the presence of a woman, he struggled into a sitting posture and looked at her, looked at her with the forced cheerfulness of a man who has come an unforeseen, unexpected cropper of the first magnitude.
"It was my fault.