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volunteers?” asked Levanter, scanning the bored faces.
    â€œThe last volunteers died in the First World War,” someone shouted from the back row. The class guffawed.
    â€œLet’s be honest with each other,” said Levanter. “I no more enjoyed finishing the race so far behind you than you would enjoy being asked such questions on your final exam.”
    To emphasize the confidential nature of what he was about to say, Levanter stood up and closed all the windows and locked the door. Then he moved his chair into the middle of the room and motioned the instructors around him.
    â€œI am not a winner,” said Levanter, “but no man was born to be a loser. There are forty-five of us here, and there will be forty-five of us competing in the March championship. I won’t mind if I finish forty-fifth, but I will mind if I finish hours after everyone else. Understand?”
    The instructors nodded.
    â€œWhile it would be hazardous for me to try skiing faster, it would not be hazardous for you to ski slower. Thus, for our mutual safety —mine in the race and yours in the exam — I propose that all of you slow down so that I can finish the race within sight of the last ten racers. You have until March to think it over.”
    The day of the March cross-country race dawned clear and windless, with crisp, well-packed snow. This last championship of the season was held during a holiday weekend and attracted unusually large crowds of spectators, including the capital’s café society and the wives and children of government, Party, and diplomatic dignitaries.
    In the early stages of the race, Levanter felt in great form; by the middle stretch he began to lose time, but discovered he was not alone. Each time he hit a rough patch and lost speed, the six or eight instructors just ahead of him slowed down as well. From time to time, he would see one of them turn to look over his shoulder and hear him shout ahead to the others, “I see him! I see him!”
    Levanter again finished last, but this time he was only thirty seconds behind the forty-fourth contestant. Surrounded by reporters and fans, Levanter overheard a radio broadcaster telling his listeners that the skiing conditions must have been extraordinarily tough, since the winning time was almost an hour longer than the previous cross-country race.
    Levanter liked skiing alone. Often he carried a small camera in his parka and stopped to photograph the dramatic high-mountain scenery that changed from moment to moment. One day he decided to ski the Aval, ValPina’s longest run. For a mile the Aval offered a straightforward, gently sloping descent, although the top tended to be very windy because the glacier PicSoleil loomed alongside. At the foot of the initial descent was a narrow ridge, which opened onto a plateau just above the first of five downward slopes, all so steep that they made this one of the most challenging runs in the Alps.
    When Levanter reached the plateau, he came upon four skiers slowly making their way down, moving in a winding course. One of them, a young woman dressed not in ski clothes but in a sheepskin jacket and woolen slacks, appeared to be having great difficulty. She was clearly terrified of the steepness of the slope below the plateau and of the run stretching before her. Each time she started to gain downward speed, she would try to slow herself by heading away from the dropline. Her momentum would carry her uphill, in a zigzag pattern, onto the side of the slope, where, in a desperate attempt to stop, she would throw herself down into the deep snow. Her ski bindings opened and released the skis, but the safety straps kept them attached to her ankles so the loose skis continued to strike her body. Levanter saw this happen several times, and he wondered how long it would be before she was seriously hurt by the steel-edged skis.
    The three men with her wore regular ski gear and handled themselves