. Oh! I say, what are you following me
for? I know. He is a dirty-looking beggar. He's coming for a wash.
But after me, please, mein herr. I'll have first go. Ugh! I'd rather
have a bath after a pig."

Saxe went on rapidly; but the man still followed, walking when he did,
and timing his pace to keep up; stopping when he did, and provoking such
a feeling of irritation in the English lad, that he suddenly faced round
and fired the speech he had prepared, but with lingual additions which
ornamented and certainly obscured the meaning.

"Here, I say! you, sir!" he cried: "old what's-your-name--Pierre? `gehen
Jericho!'"

The man still stared.

"I say, `gehen Jericho!' and if you will, `danke schon,' and good luck
to you. Oh, I say, do shut that ugly mouth of yours. What's the good
of keeping it open if you're not going to speak! There's no breakfast
here."

Pierre still stared, and Saxe swung round again and went on.

"It's too bad to be bothered by a foreigner like him," he muttered. "I
meant to have a regular natural shower-bath,"--he glanced up at the
beautiful spray fall beyond him as he said this to himself--"but now I
can't have it, with this fellow watching me, and it'll only mean a scrub
and rub."

He stopped and turned round again, to find Pierre in his old position
just the same distance behind.

"I tell you what it is, old chap: if you don't shut up that mouth, I
shall be tempted to pitch a round stone into it; and if it wasn't for
fear of getting up war between England and Switzerland, I'd come and
punch your head. Here, I say! Do you hear? Be off!"

Pierre stared.

"Oh! I know what you are," grumbled Saxe: "you're a cretin--an idiot.
I suppose there are lots of you in the valleys. Here--hi! Catch!"

Saxe took a twenty-cent nickel coin from his pocket, and took aim.

"I'll pitch it right into his mouth," he said to himself. "There you
are, old chap! Don't swallow it!"

He threw the coin so truly, that if Pierre had stood still it would, in
all probability, have gone where it was aimed. But the man's action was
as quick as that of a monkey. With one sharp dash of the hand he caught
the piece, scowled as he found that it was not half a florin, and then
thrust it into his pocket and stared.

"Oh my!" muttered Saxe as he went on; "he's worse than that lost dog,
who came and said to me that I was his master, and that he'd never leave
me as long as I lived. I hope this chap isn't