Big Game - A Story for Girls

"Oh, please! I'd love it! It would be too kind of you!" cried Margot

eagerly. She had not the faintest idea what "soaking a cast" might

mean, and listened in bewilderment to a score of unfamiliar expressions;

but it is safe to affirm that she would have assented with equal fervour

to almost any proposition which her companion made.

There and then followed the first lesson on the seemingly easy, but in

reality difficult, task of "casting," the Editor illustrating his lesson

by easy, graceful throws, which Margot tried in vain to imitate. She

grew impatient, stamping her feet, and frowning fiercely with her dark

eyebrows, while he looked on with the amused indulgence which one

accords to a child.

"Are you always in such a hurry to accomplish a thing at once?"

"Yes, always! It's only when you don't care that you can afford to

wait."

"It sometimes saves time in the end to make haste slowly!"

"Oh, don't confound me with proverbs!" cried Margot, turning a flushed,

petulant face at him over her shoulder. "I know I am impetuous and

imprudent, but--the horrid thing will twist up! Don't you think I

might have a demonstration this time? Let me watch, and pick up hints.

I'm sure I should learn more quickly that way, and it would be less

boring for you. Please!"

At that he took the rod, nothing loth, and Margot seated herself on the

ground, a trifle short of breath after her exertions, and not at all

sorry to have the chance of looking on while some one else did the work.

She was intently conscious of her companion's presence, but he seemed

to forget all about her, as wading slightly forward into the stream he

cast his fly in slow, unerring circuit. How big he looked, how strong

and masterful; how graceful were the lines of his tall lean figure!

From where she sat Margot could see the dark profile beneath the

deerstalker cap, the long straight nose, the firmly-closed lips, the

steady eyes. It was the face of a man whom above all things one could

trust. "A poor dumb body," Mrs Macalister had dubbed him, scornfully;

but Margot had discovered that he was by no means dumb, and that once

the first barriers were broken, he could talk with the best, and bring

into his conversation the added eloquence of expression. She recalled

the lighting of his absorbed eyes as he had looked down at her own white

hand, and flushed at the remembrance.