"The stream," continued Sayre, "purled." He coldly watched the literary effect upon Langdon, then went on:
"Now, there's enough descriptive colour to give you a proper mental picture. If you had left me alone I'd have finished it ten minutes ago. The rest moves with accelerated rhythm. It begins with the cracking of a stick in the forest. Hark! A sharp crack is——"
"Every bum novel begins that way."
"Well, the real thing did, too! And it startled me. How did I know what it might have been? It might have been a bear——"
"Or a cow."
"You talk," said Sayre angrily, "like William Dean Howells! Haven't you any romance in you?"
"Not what you call romance. Pass the flapjacks."
Sayre passed them.
"My attention," he said, "instantly became riveted upon the bushes. I strove to pierce them with a piercing glance. Suddenly——"
"Sure! 'Suddenly' always comes next."