"Think of the concentrated beauty in that University! Think of that rich round-up of creamy dreams! Consider that mellifluous marmalade! And--we can't have any--because _you_ are slightly bald and near-sighted and _I_ am thin and scholarly!" He ran at the camp-kettle and kicked it. After a painful silence Sayre said timidly: "Don't laugh, but _is_ there any known substance which will bring in hair?" "You mean bring it out?" "Well, dammit, grow it! Is there?" "There are too many bald monarchs and millionaires to prove the contrary. Nor is there anything that can make my thin shanks fatter." "--I'd be willing to go about without glasses," said Sayre humbly. "I told her so." "Couldn't you deceive her with a wig? It wouldn't matter afterward. After you're once married let her shriek." "Amourette _saw_ my head." And he hung it in bitter dejection. "Come on," said Langdon cheerily. "Let's peek through their fence and see what happens. Much has been done with a merry eye in this world of haughty ladies." As they turned away into the woods Sayre clenched his fists. "I'd like to knock the collective blocks off those four young men inside that fence. And--to think--to _think_ of Amourette going out again to-morrow, man hunting, with her net! I can't endure it, Curt--I simply can't." Langdon looked at his friend in deep commiseration. "I wish I could help you, William--but I don't see--I--don't--exactly--see----" He hesitated. "Of course I _could_ go to Utica and pay a wig-maker and costumer to make me up into the kind of Charlie-Gussie they're looking for at that University. . . . And when your best girl goes out hunting, she'll see me and net me, and you can be in hiding near by, and rush out and net her." In their excitement they seized each other and danced. "Why not?" exclaimed Langdon. "Shall I try? Trust me to come back a specimen of sickening symmetry--the kind of man women write about and draw pictures of--pink and white and silky-whiskered! Shall I? And I'll bring you a net to catch her in! Is it a go, William?" Sayre broke down and began to cry. "Heaven bless you, friend," he sobbed. "And if ever I get that girl inside a net she'll learn something about natural selection that they p-p-probably forgot to teach in their accursed New Race University!" [Illustration] [Illustration] 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 hard that his ears hurt him. A few yards away, ambushed behind a rock on which was painted "Votes for Women," 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 human bait--Langdon being cast for the bait.