Part 16 (1/2)
It was evident that we had betrayed ourselves to this young girl.
She glanced at us again, and perhaps she noticed in our fascinated gaze an expression akin to terror, for suddenly she laughed--such a clear, sweet, silvery little laugh!
”For my part,” she said, ”I wish they had come with us. I like--men.”
With that she bade us goodnight very politely and went off to her tent, leaving us with our hats pressed against our stomachs, attempting by the profundity of our bows to indicate the depth of our grat.i.tude.
”_There's_ a girl!” exclaimed Brown, as soon as she had disappeared behind her tent flaps. ”She'll never let on to Medusa, Xantippe, Ca.s.sandra and Company. I _like_ that girl, Smith.”
”You're not the only one imbued by such sentiments,” said I.
He smiled a fatuous and reminiscent smile. He certainly was good-looking.
Presently he said:
”She has the most delightful way of gazing at a man--”
”I've noticed,” I said pleasantly.
”Oh. Did she happen to glance at _you_ that way?” he inquired. I wanted to beat him.
All I said was:
”She's certainly some kitten.” Which bottled that young man for a while.
We lay on the bank of the tiny lake, our backs against a huge pine-tree, watching the last traces of colour fading from peak and tree-top.
”Isn't it queer,” I said, ”that not a trout has splashed? It can't be that there are no fish in the lake.”
”There _are_ such lakes.”
”Yes, very deep ones. I wonder how deep this is.”
”We'll be out at sunrise with our reel of piano wire and take soundings,”
he said. ”The heavy artillery won't wake until they're ready to be loaded with flap-jacks.”
I shuddered:
”They're fearsome creatures, Brown. Somehow, that resolute and bony one has inspired me with a terror unutterable.”
”Mrs. Batt?”
”Yes.”
He said seriously:
”She'll make a horrid outcry when she asks for her knitting. What are you going to tell her?”
”I shall say that Indians ambuscaded us while she was asleep, and carried off all those things.”
”You lie very nicely, don't you?” he remarked admiringly.