panted and barely contrived to maintain a precarious footing, while
sending his flies sprawling down the rapids.

"Good-morning," she nodded, as he caught sight of her. He attempted to
take off his cap, slipped, wallowed, and recovered his balance by
miracle alone.

"There's a thumping big trout under that bridge," he informed her
eagerly; "he ran downstream just now, but I can't seem to raise him."

"You splash too much. You'd probably raise him if you raised less of
something else."

"Is that it?" he inquired innocently. "I try not to, but I generally
manage to raise hell with every pool before I get a chance to fish it.
I'll show you just where he lies. Watch!"

His cast of flies whistled wildly; there was a quick pang of pain in her
shoulder and she gave a frightened cry.

"Good Lord! Have I got _you_?" he exclaimed, aghast.

"You certainly have," she retorted, exasperated, "and you had better
come up and get this hook out! You'll need it if you want to fish any
more."

Dripping and horrified, he scrambled up the bank to the footbridge; she
flinched, but made no sound, as he freed her from the hook; a red stain
appeared on the sleeve of her waist, above the elbow.

"It's fortunate that it was a b-barbless hook," he stammered, horribly
embarrassed and contemplating with dismay the damage he had
accomplished; "otherwise," he added, "we would have had to cut out the
hook. We're rather lucky, I think. Is it very painful?"

"Sufficiently," she said, disgusted. "But I suppose this sort of thing
is nothing unusual for you."

"I've hooked one or two people," he admitted, reddening. "I suppose you
won't bother to forgive me, but I'm terribly sorry. If you'll let me put
a little mud on it----"

She disdained to reply. He hovered about her, clumsily solicitous, and
whichever way she turned, he managed to get underfoot, until, thoroughly
vexed, she stood stock-still and opened her arms with a hopeless
gesture:

"What _are_ you trying to do, Delancy? Do you want to embrace me? I wish
you wouldn't leap about me like a great Dane puppy!"

The red surged up into his face anew:

"I beg your pardon," he said. "I'm very sorry."

She looked at him curiously: "I beg yours--you big, silly boy. Don't
blush at me. Great Danes are exceedingly desirable property, you
know.... Did you wish to be forgiven for anything? What on earth are you
doing with that horrid fistful of muck?"

"I only want to put some mud on that wou