"My dear sir, you're quite as intrepid as Kit North. You will make an angler, certainly."
"Thanks—vewy much delighted, I assuah you. I have been devising another method of casting the fly, majah. I find it vewy difficult, and it makes my ahms ache. I think I will take a piece of aldah and make a pop-gun and pop the fly out. Did you evah twy it?"
"I never did; with the pop-gun and umbrella you will revolutionize the science of angling."
"No? weally? But the umbwella was not my device, you know," Mr. Dide modestly protested.
"Still, you made the project possible."
"Think so?"
"Do you shoot, Mr. Dide?"
"Aw, a little. I have pwacticed some with a Winchestah, at a tawget, you know."
The Major deemed it advisable to admonish the gentleman that it would be well for him to seek a change of clothing, or at least to wring out his garments and hang them on the bushes to dry. The latter part of the suggestion was rejected as impossible—"somebody might come, you know"—notwithstanding the Major offered him the use of a rubber coat during the emergency. Mr. Dide therefore trudged off toward the town, leaving an impression, to one ignorant of the cause, that a miniature sprinkler had just passed over the road. After his departure I informed the Major that the gentleman had intimated a desire to accompany us during the remainder of our trip.
"If you can stand it, I can, my boy."