“Colonel!” cried Rex, and springing up and throwing open the door, he threatened to mingle his pajamas with the natty tweeds waiting there in a loving embrace. The colonel backed away, twisting his white mustache. “How do, Reggy! Same boy, eh? Yes. I drove from Schicksalsee this morning.”
“This morning? Wasn’t it last night?” said Rex, looking at the shadows on the opposite mountain.
“And I am going to get some trout,” continued the colonel, ignoring the interruption. “So’s Daisy. See my new waterproof rig?”
“Beautiful! but—is it quite the thing to wear a flower in one’s fishing coat?”
“I’m not aware—” began the other stiffly, but broke down, shook his seal ring at Rex, and walking over to the glass, rearranged the bit of wild hyacinth in his buttonhole with care.
“And now,” he said, “Daisy and I will give you just three quarters of an hour.” Rex sent a shower from the water basin across the room.
“Look out for those new waterproof clothes, Colonel.”
“I’ll take them out of harm’s way,” said the colonel, and disappeared.
Before the time had expired Rex stood under the beech tree with his rod case and his creel. The colonel sat reading a novel. Mrs Dene was pouring out coffee. Ruth was coming down a path which led from a low shed, the door of which stood wide open, suffering the early sunshine to fall on something that lay stretched along the floor. It was a stag, whose noble head and branching antlers would never toss in the sunshine again.
“Only think!” cried Ruth breathlessly, “Federl shot a stag of ten this morning at daybreak on the Red Peak, and he’s frightened out of his wits, for only the duke has a right to do that. Federl mistook it for a stag of eight. And they’re in the velvet, besides!” she added rather incoherently. “ What luck! Poor Federl! I asked him if that meant strafen, and he said he guessed not, only zanken.”