“Most extraordinary thing. I’ve never known Yellow Munks to fail even when every other fly’s been a wash-out. I expect you’re feeling hungry, aren’t you?”

“I believe I could toy with two or three crumbs,” Myrtle admitted.

“Well, what about landing on Ellenanie?”

“Is she good company?”

“Is who good company?”

“Ellen.”

“Ellen who?”

“I don’t know, Hector. She’s your friend, not mine. You suggested landing on her.”

He guffawed genially.

“Oh, Ellenanie! That’s that little island over there. I thought it would be a good place for lunch.”

“Any place sounds good to me with lunch tacked on to it,” said Myrtle. “If we don’t eat soon I’ll start nibbling at those bugs the fish refused.”

Hector turned to the gillie.

“All right, Lachy, put us ashore on Ellenanie and come back for us in about half an hour.” He turned to Myrtle again. “There’s one fly I haven’t tried yet. Hopkinson’s Belted Pinkhead.”

“Why don’t you try a garden-worm, Hector? I used to catch lots of little fishes with garden-worms in our lake at home.”

“I’m afraid that wouldn’t be considered very sporting, would it, Lachy?”

Lachlan Macdonald looked at Myrtle as if she were another Lucrezia Borgia, and shook his head in stern disapproval.

“You rather shocked poor Lachy,” Hector told her when they had landed on the little island, which consisted of about half a rood of lush grass with a bosket of rowans and elders in the middle.

“He’ll get over it,” Myrtle prophesied confidently. “My, those sandwiches certainly look good.”

They both munched away in silence for a while until hunger had been assuaged.

“I don’t believe I care a great lot for fishing,” said Myrtle at last. “I think putting the stone and fishing are kind of slow.”

“I think fishing is very like life, if you see what I mean.”

“Elucidate,” she bade.

“Well, I mean to say, some people go through life and catch a basketful and others don’t catch anything.”

“You’re some philosopher, aren’t you?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t go as far as that,” said Hector modestly. “I mean to say we don’t get any time for that sort of thing in the Army. But I think a good deal to myself. It’s awfully hot in India and sometimes I can’t sleep and then I start thinking.”

“What do you think about?”

“Oh, I don’t think about anything in particular. You know? I just think.”

“But you must think about something.”

“I don’t, really. Unless of course there’s something to think about. I mean like what we’d have made if my partner had redoubled in some hand at contract. Do you play much contract?”

“Never.”

“You are an extraordinary girl, Myrtle. You must find it awfully dull sometimes, don’t you?”

“No; I’ve kept myself awake all right so far.”