"I'm fishing!" I called out joyously. "Come under my umbrella!"
She cast a glance behind her toward the blank void where, on clear days, the bulk of the Bec de l'Empereur towered aloft in its mantle of dazzling snow. Then she slowly walked toward me through the rain.
When she came near to where I sat, she began to laugh; and I never saw such an exquisite sight as Thusis, bare-headed in the rain, laughing.
"What on earth are you up to, Michael?" she said.
"Fishing. That herd of huns will eat us out of house and garden if we don't catch something. Sit beside me under the umbrella, Thusis. There's room if we're careful and don't let the camp-stool collapse."
She gave me an inscrutable glance, stood motionless for a few moments, then slowly came over.
"Careful now," I cautioned her, rising. "We must both seat ourselves at the same instant or this camp-stool will close up like a jack-knife. Are you ready?"
She laughed and inclined her pretty head.
"Then—one! two! three! Sit!"
We managed to accomplish it without an accident.