"Shut up that hurdy-gurdy voice of yours! A defect like that will count ten points against you! Can it!" "Oh, very well," said Langdon, offended; "but everybody doesn't feel the way you do about music." Silence resumed her classical occupation in the forest; the stream continued to sparkle and make its own kind of music; the trout, having become accustomed to the queer thing on the bank and the baited hook among the pebbles, gathered in the ripples stemming the current with winnowing fins. A very young rabbit sat up in a fern patch and examined Langdon with dark, moist eyes. He sat there for several minutes, and might have remained for several more if a sound, unheard by Langdon and by Sayre, had not set the bunch of whiskers on his restless nose twitching, and sent him scurrying off over the moss. The sound was no sound to human ears; Langdon heard it not; Sayre, drowsy in the scented heat, dozed behind his rock. A shadow fell across the moss; then another; two slim shapes moved stealthily 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, she passed 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 are deceptive." "Those are exquisite calves," said Amourette sadly. "I'm sure they'll measure 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 unconscious quarry. Perhaps she was thinking of a certain near-sighted, thin-haired young man--and how she had slammed the gate of the wire fence in his face--_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 and come up behind him. When you're ready, mew like a cat-bird and I'll let him catch a glimpse of me. And as soon as he begins to--to rubber," she said, with a haughty glance at the unconscious angler, "steal up and net him, and I'll come across and help tie him up." Amourette sighed, standing there irresolute. Then she straightened her drooping shoulders, seized her net very firmly, and, with infinite caution, began to stalk her quarry.