V
ONE week later Curtis Langdon sat on the banks of a trout stream fishing,apparently deeply absorbed in his business; but he was listening so hardthat his ears hurt him.
A few yards away, ambushed behind a rock on which was painted "Votes forWomen," lurked William Sayre. A net lay on the ground beside him,fashioned with ring and detachable handle like a gigantic butterfly net.
He, too, tremendously excited, was listening and watching the humanbait--Langdon being cast for the bait.
Perfect and nauseating beauty now marked that young gentleman. Featuresand figure were symmetrical; his eyebrows had been pencilled into exactarcs, his mouth was a Cupid's bow, his cheeks were softly rosy, and asilky and sickly moustache shadowed his rosy lips. Under his fashionableouting shirt he wore a rubber chest improver; his cunningly paddedshoulders recalled the exquisite sartorial creations of Mart, Haffner,and Sharx; his patent puttees gave him a calf to which his personalshanks had never aspired; thick, golden-brown hair, false as a woman'svows, was tossed carelessly from a brow, snowy with pearl powder. And hewore a lilac-edged handkerchief in his left cuff.
Both young men truly felt that if any undergraduate of the New RaceUniversity was out stalking she'd have at least one try at such a bait.Nothing feminine and earnest could resist that glutinous agglomeration ofcharms.
But they had now been there since before dawn; nothing had broken thesun-lit quiet of forest and water, not even a trout; and they listenedin vain for the snapping of the classical twig.
Lunch time came; they ate a pad apiece. Neither dared to smoke, Sayrebecause it might reveal his hiding place, Langdon because smoking mightbe considered an imperfection in the University.
Sunlight fell warm on the banks of the stream, the leaves rustled, bigwhite clouds floated in the blue above. Nothing came near Langdon excepta few mosquitoes, who couldn't bite through the make-up; and a small andinquisitive bird that inspected him with disdain and said,"cheep--che-ep!" so many times that Langdon took it as a personal commentand almost blushed.
He thought to himself: "If it wasn't that William is actually becomingill over his unhappy love affair I'm damned if I'd let even a dicky-birdsee me in this rig. Ugh! What a head of hair! The average girl's ideal iswhat every healthy man wants to kick. I wouldn't blame any decent fellowfor booting me into the brook on sight."
He bit into his pad and sat chewing reflectively and dabbling his line inthe water.
"Poor old William," he mused. "This business is likely to end us both. Ifwe stay here we lose our jobs; if we go back William is likely toincrease the nut crop. I never supposed men took love as seriously asthat. I've heard that it sometimes occurred--what is it Shakespeare says:'How Love doth make nuts of us all!'"
He chewed his pad and swung his feet, philosophically.
"Why the devil doesn't some girl come and try to steal a kiss?" hemuttered. "It might perhaps be well to call their attention to myhelpless presence and unguarded condition."
So he sang for a while, swinging his legs: "Somebody's watching andwaiting for me!" munching his luncheon between verses; and, as nobodycame, he bawled louder and louder the refrain: "Somebody's darling,darling, dah-ling!" until a hoarse voice from behind the rock silencedhim:
"Shut up that hurdy-gurdy voice of yours! A defect like that will countten points against you! Can it!"
"Oh, very well," said Langdon, offended; "but everybody doesn't feel theway you do about music."
Silence resumed her classical occupation in the forest; the streamcontinued to sparkle and make its own kind of music; the trout, havingbecome accustomed to the queer thing on the bank and the baited hookamong the pebbles, gathered in the ripples stemming the current withwinnowing fins.
A very young rabbit sat up in a fern patch and examined Langdon withdark, moist eyes. He sat there for several minutes, and might haveremained for several more if a sound, unheard by Langdon and by Sayre,had not set the bunch of whiskers on his restless nose twitching, andsent him scurrying off over the moss.
The sound was no sound to human ears; Langdon heard it not; Sayre, drowsyin the scented heat, dozed behind his rock.
A shadow fell across the moss; then another; two slim shapes movedstealthily among the trees across the brook.
For ten minutes the foremost figure stood looking at Langdon.Occasionally she used an opera glass, which, from time to time, shepassed back over her shoulder to her companion.
"Ethra," she whispered at last, "he seems to be practically perfect."
"I'm wondering about those puttees, dear--shanks in puttees aredeceptive."
"Those are exquisite calves," said Amourette sadly. "I'm sure they'llmeasure up to regulation. And his chest seems up to proof."
"What beautiful eyebrows," murmured Ethra.
But Amourette found no pleasure in them, nor in the golden-brown hair,nor the bloom of youth and perfect health pervading their unconsciousquarry. Perhaps she was thinking of a certain near-sighted, thin-hairedyoung man--and how she had slammed the gate of the wire fence in hisface--_after_ their first kiss.
She drew a deep, painful breath and lifted her head resolutely.
"I suppose I'd better begin to stalk him, Ethra," she said.
"Yes; he's a very good specimen. Be careful, dear. Strike a circle andcome up behind him. When you're ready, mew like a cat-bird and I'll lethim catch a glimpse of me. And as soon as he begins to--to rubber," shesaid, with a haughty glance at the unconscious angler, "steal up and nethim, and I'll come across and help tie him up."
Amourette sighed, standing there irresolute. Then she straightened herdrooping shoulders, seized her net very firmly, and, with infinitecaution, began to stalk her quarry.
Once the stalking had fairly begun, the girl became absorbed in the game.All memory of Sayre, if there indeed had been any to make her falter inher purpose, now departed. She was a huntress pure and simple, silent,furtive, adroit, intent upon her quarry. There came a kind of fiercenessinto her concentration; the joy of the chase thrilled her as she creptnoiselessly through the woods, describing a circle, crossing the streamfar above the sleepy fisherman, gliding, stealing nearer, nearer, untilat length she stood in the thicket behind him.
For a moment she waited silently, freeing her net and gathering it in herright hand ready for a deadly cast. Then, pursing up her red lips, shemewed like a cat-bird, three times.
Instantly, across the stream, she saw Ethra step out of the willows intoplain view; saw Langdon wake up, stare, get up, and regard the beautifulvision across the stream with concentrated and delighted attention.
Then Amourette stole swiftly forward over the moss, swinging the heavysilken net in her right hand, closer, closer. Suddenly the net whistledin the air, glistened, lengthened, and fell, enmeshing Langdon; and, atthe same instant something behind her whistled and fell slap; and shefound herself struggling in the folds of an enormous butterfly net.
"Ethra! Help!" she cried, terrified, trying to keep her balance in theweb which enveloped her, striving to tear a way free through the meshes;but she was only wrapped up the tighter; two brutal masculine arms liftedher, held her cradled and entangled, freed the handle from the net, andbore her swiftly away.
"Darling," whispered William Sayre, "d-don't kick."
"_You_!" she gasped, struggling frantically.
"The real thing, dearest of women! The old-fashioned, original cave man.Will you come quietly? There's a license bureau in the next village. Orshall I be obliged to keep right on carrying you?"
"Oh, oh, _oh_!" she sobbed; "what disgrace! what humiliation; what shame!Oh, Ethra! Ethra! What in the world am I to do?"
"That's where the mistake arose," said William gently; "_you_ don't haveto do anything--except put both arms around my neck and--be careful notto knock off my glasses."
"_Glasses_! Ethra! Ethra! Where are you? Don't you see what is becomingof me? You--you had b-better hurry, too," she added with a sob, "becausethe man who is carrying me off is the man I told you about.
_Ethra_!Where are you?"
A convenient echo replied in similar terms. Meanwhile Sayre was walkingfaster and faster through the woods.
For a while she lay motionless and silent, cradled in his arms. And aftera long, long time she tried feebly to adjust the disordered ondulationson her hair.
Then a very small, still voice said:
"Mr. Sayre?"
"Darling!"
She seemed to recognise this as her name.
"Mr. Sayre, w-what are you going to do with me?"
"Marry you."
"B-b-by f-f-force?"
"That is up to you, darling."
"Against my will?"
"That also is up to you."
"And--and my inclination?"
"No, not against that, Amourette."
"Do you dare believe I love you?"
"I should worry."
"Do you know you are hurting me, physically, spiritually, mentally?"
"I suppose I am."
"Do you realise that you are a brute?"
"I sure do. We're all of us a little in that line, Amourette."
After a long silence she turned her face so that it rested against hisshoulder--nestled closer, and lay very still.
The Gay Rebellion Page 6