THE GOLD COAST
BY JOHN FREEMAN
A MORE beautiful dragon-fly had never been seen: he must follow it, catch it, release it unharmed and lovelier than before. Hovering at the edge of Crispin's Pool it seemed like a shining arrow of gold, shot from the sun and pausing before it fell. If it fell it would fall into the green water. Richard—Richard Corbet Clyne—had not been to the Pool since last winter, when it was frozen over and he tried to skate on the rimy surface, and skimmed pebbles upon it, and smiled to hear the noise. It was wonderful that he had walked and slid helplessly, where now, if this fine arrow of gold fell, it would be spoiled and drowned.
The dragon flashed suddenly past him and Richard plunged through the green bracken after it, wishing he had a cap instead of a flimsy handkerchief that would be so long in falling if he flung it. He scrambled up the sandy path, not stopping to notice how many rabbits must haunt the copses, and followed the dragon until it stayed and flashed its shaking light again. Richard, too, paused, for he was out of breath and knew he was too far off to attempt to catch the dragon-fly by tossing a handkerchief, and feared to fold a stone in it. How lucky were the boys who went out with nets. Next term he would sell all his stamps and buy a net—oh, but his mother would be sure to forbid it. His mother, he obscurely felt, was proud of him, and encouraged him in every serious pursuit—stamp collecting was one—but butterfly-hunting was merely hunting, a violent exercise and no more. If he needed play, there was chess; and he sighed to think that though he sold every stamp he possessed he would be no nearer getting a net. The Martins had nets, but he couldn't bring himself to borrow things he wanted for his own, especially since his mother disapproved. He might persuade her by showing her he really could play chess now, but he hated chess—and look, the sheeny wings were gone!
Richard sprang up and followed again, but a single glimpse of the brilliant being was all: the dragon-fly had vanished and the sky was empty. A hundred nets would make no difference now.
