s eel,' or 'nicking of his
man,' a method of getting straight at the riddle of the fellow by the
test of how long he could endure a flat mute stare and return look for
look unblinking. The act of smoking fortifies and partly covers the
insolence. But if by chance an equable, not too narrowly focussed,
counterstare is met, our impertinent inquisitor may resemble the
fisherman pulled into deep waters by his fish. Woodseer perused his man,
he was not attempting to fathom him: he had besides other stuff in his
head. Potts had naught, and the poor particle he was wriggled under
detection.

'Tobacco before breakfast!' he said disgustedly tossing his cigar to the
road. 'Your pipe holds on. Bad thing, I can tell you, that smoking on an
empty stomach. No trainer'd allow it, not for a whole fee or double.
Kills your wind. Let me ask you, my good sir, are you going to turn?
We've sat a fairish stretch. I begin to want my bath and a shave, linen
and coffee. Thirsty' as a dog.'

He heard with stupefaction, that he could alight on the spot, if he
pleased, otherwise he would be driven into Carlsruhe. And now they had a
lingual encounter, hot against cool; but the eyes of Chummy Potts having
been beaten, his arguments and reproaches were not backed by the powerful
looks which are an essential part of such eloquence as he commanded. They
fled from his enemy's currishly, even while he was launching epithets.
His pathetic position subjected him to beg that Woodseer would direct the
driver to turn, for he had no knowledge of 'their German lingo.' And said
he: 'You've nothing to laugh at, that I can see. I'm at your mercy, you
brute; caught in a trap. I never walk;--and the sun fit to fry a mackerel
along that road! I apologize for abusing you; I can't do more. You're an
infernally clever player--there! And, upon my soul, I could drink
ditchwater! But if you're going in for transactions at Carlsruhe, mark my
words, your luck's gone. Laugh as much as you like.'

Woodseer happened to be smiling over the excellent reason for not turning
back which inflicted the wofulness. He was not without sympathy for a
thirsty wretch, and guessing, at the sight of an avenue of limes to the
left of the road, that a wayside inn was below, he said: 'You can have
coffee or beer in two minutes,' and told the driver where to pull up.

The sight of a grey-jacketed, green-collared sportsman, dog at heel,
crossing the flat land to the hills of the forest, pricked