tent mischief. After
all, the remembrance did not lessen the likeness. Miss Margot looked as
if she might--under provocation--display a prickle or two of her own!

"What do I think about?" he repeated slowly. "That is rather a
difficult question to answer; but this good little river, I am thankful
to say, does not leave one much time for thought. There's a little
channel just beyond the bridge that is a favourite place for sea trout.
Would you like to see it?"

"Might I? Really? Oh, please!" cried Margot, all in a breath. Her
very prettiest "please," accompanied by a quick rise to her feet which
emphasised the eagerness of her words.

George Elgood lost no time in following her example, and together they
walked briskly away towards the head of the dell; that is to say, in the
opposite direction to that taken by the other members of the party.
George Elgood had picked up his fishing-tackle as he went--by an almost
unconscious impulse, as it seemed--and unconsciously his conversation
drifted to the all-absorbing topic.

"If we take a sharp cut across this hill--I'll give you a hand down the
steep bits!--we hit the river at the best spot. You have been grumbling
at the wet weather, but you will see the good effects of rain, from a
fisherman's point of view. The river is full from bank to bank, rushing
down to the sea. It is a fine sight, a river in flood! I don't know
anything in Nature which gives the same impression of power and joy.
That's where Norway has the pull. Her mountains can't compare with the
Swiss giants, but everywhere there is a glorious wealth of water. No
calm sleeping lakes, but leaping cataracts of rivers filling whole
valleys, as my little stream here fills its small banks; roaring and
dashing, and sparkling in the sun. Norway is perfection, from a
fisherman's point of view; but there is plenty of sport to be found
nearer home. I have had no cause to complain for the last fortnight.
This way--to the right! It's just a little rough going at first, but it
cuts off a good mile. You are sure you don't mind?"

Margot's laugh rang out jubilantly. She scrambled up the steep mountain
path with nimble feet, easily out-distancing her guide, until the
hilltop was reached, and she stood silhouetted against the sky, while
the wind blew out her white skirts, and loosened curling tendrils of
hair.

Below could be traced the course of the river, winding in and out in
deep curves, and growing e