“Oh, yes, I see. Met him this morning. By Jove, he is some looker too,” replied Mr. Duckworth with reluctant enthusiasm.
“And there is the High River Captain,” said Mrs. Waring-Gaunt, “on the grey.”
“Oh, yes, Monteith, he played for All Canada last year, didn't he?” said Nora with immense enthusiasm. “He is perfectly splendid.”
“I hear the High River club has really sent only its second team, or at least two of them,” said Mrs. Waring-Gaunt. “Certainly Tremaine is not with them.”
“I hope they get properly trimmed for it,” said Nora, indignantly. “Such cheek!”
The result of the match quite exceeded Nora's fondest hopes, for the High River team, having made the fatal error of despising the enemy, suffered the penalty of their mistake in a crushing defeat. It was certainly a memorable day for Wolf Willow, whose inhabitants were exalted to a height of glory as they never experienced in all their history.
“Serves us right,” said Monteith, the High River Captain, apologising for his team's poor display to his friend, Hec Ross, who had commanded the Wolf Willow team. “We deserved to be jolly well licked, and we got what was coming to us.”
“Oh, we're not worrying,” replied the Wolf Willow Captain, himself a sturdy horseman and one of the most famous stick handlers in the West. “Of course, we know that if Murray and Knight had been with you the result would have been different.”
“I am not at all sure about that,” replied Monteith. “That new man of yours, Romayne, is a wonder. Army man, isn't he?”
“Yes, played in India, I believe.”