scuffle he had had with the tramp; but he really looked as chipper
as ever.

"How do you like the wild life of a bookseller?" he said.
"You must read George Borrow. He would have enjoyed Parnassus."

"I was just thinking, when I met you, that I could write a book
about my adventures."

"Good!" he said. "We might collaborate."

"There's another thing we might collaborate on," I said, "and
that's breakfast. I'm sure you haven't had any."

"No," he said, "I don't think I have. I never lie when I know
I shan't be believed."

"I haven't had any, either," I said. I thought that to tell an
untruth would be the least thing I could do to reward the little
man for his unselfishness.

"Well," he said, "I really thought that by this time--"

He broke off. "Was that Bock barking?" he asked sharply.

We had been walking slowly, and had not yet reached the spot where
the lane branched from the main road. We were still about three
quarters of a mile from the place where I had camped overnight. We
both listened carefully, but I could hear nothing but the singing of
the telephone wires along the road.