"Suddenly the thicket stirred; the leaves were stealthily parted; and——"
"A naked savage in full war paint——"
"Naked nothing! A young girl in full war paint and a perfectly fitting gown stepped noiselessly out."
"Out of what? you gink!"
"The bushes, dammit! She held in her hand a curious contrivance which I could not absolutely identify. It might have been a hammock; it might have been a fish-net."
"Perhaps it was a combination," suggested Langdon cheerfully. "Good idea; she to help you catch a trout; you to help her sit in the hammock; afterward——"
Sayre, absorbed in retrospection, squatted beside the fire, a burnt flapjack suspended below his lips, which were slightly touched with a tenderly reminiscent smile.
"What are you smirking about now?" demanded Langdon.
"She was such a pretty girl," mused Sayre, dreamily.
"Did you sit in the hammock with her?"