startle Little John beside a fallen deer, I looked carefully
about, got out my pale crackers, and wondered whether I dared
begin. It is always an eerie sensation to be alone in the forest,
what with the whispering leaves overhead, the stir and hum of
insects, the rustle of ghostly foot-falls, and (in my case) the
uneasy sense of green-liveried keepers sneaking up at one through
the clumps of gorse. However, I was not the man to belie the blood
of Revolutionary heroes and meanly carry my unexploded crackers
beyond the scene of danger, so I remembered the brave days of old
and touched a whitey off. It burst with the roar of a cannon and
reverberated through the glades like the broadside of a man-of-
war. It took me a good five minutes before I had the courage to
detonate another, which, for better security, I did this time
under my hat. I am not saying it did the hat any good, but it
seemed safer and less deafening, and I accordingly went on in this
manner until there were only about three whiteys left between me
and Vesuvius, which I kept back, in accordance with tradition, for
one big triumphant bang at the end.

I was in the act of touching my cigar to whitey number three,--on
my knees, I remember; and trying to arrange my hat so as to get
the most muffling for the least outlay of burned felt, when the
branches in front of me parted and I looked up to see--well,
simply the most beautiful woman in the world, regarding me with
astonishment and anger. She was about twenty, somewhat above the
medium height, and her eyes were of a lovely flashing blue that
seemed in the intensity of her indignation to positively emit
sparks--altogether the most exquisitely radiant and glorious
creature that man was ever privileged to gaze upon.