handle. There were the withers, the haunch, the hock, and a score of
other features upon which Gard's new acquaintance held forth,
introducing almost every remark with his rather embarrassed "excuse
me."

The astonishing Teuton erudition again! Gard had to marvel at it
once more. This German was, by rare exception, ingratiating. They
finally introduced themselves. Herr Furstenheimer of Wuerttemberg--a
farmer. Gard concluded he did not dislike Germans of the south.
Their temperaments, voices, manners, are somewhat softer than those
of the north.

"I haven't been in Cologne in twenty years," Furstenheimer
explained. "Just stopped off. I wonder if you--I see you too are a
tourist--happen to be going my way. Excuse me, but that would be
odd, wouldn't it?"

"Yes--I'm bound for Rotterdam."

"Rotterdam--- why so am I!" ejaculated the German in a happy moment.
"I'm on my way to visit my sister there. I haven't seen her for
years. It's really shameful. What train do you take?"

"The two o'clock. I wish you might be going along. One gets somewhat
bored traveling alone."

"I'm the same way. I like company. I had intended going on
to-night, but this Cologne one hears so much about is
disappointingly dull, isn't it? Nothing to see." They conversed in
German to Kirtley's linguistic satisfaction.

"But I'm stopping off at Aix-la-Chapelle," he had to say. "That's at
four. Then I'm taking the late train."

"What is there at Aix? I don't remember."

"I want to see Charlemagne's tomb."

"Oh, _so_? That can't be duller than Cologne, can it? I don't see
that I would be losing any time by it either. I'll tell you what
I'll do. If I decide to join you--and I hope I shall--you'll see me
at the two o'clock. But if I don't--well, Aufwiedersehen!--let us
hope--and I am delighted to have met you."

Gard was gratified when the sociable Wuerttemberger arrived at the
station. They went on to Aix in a compartment full of _militaires_.
The countryside, swimming in the sunlight, lay tidy and dimpling in
the gentle arms of a peace and prosperity that made the newspaper
talk of a campaign seem unreal and preposterous.

Furstenheimer appeared to have only the interests of a small
land-holder, and gossiped about his farm, his horses and prices. He
was not apparently concerned about the war excitement. Agriculture
in Wuerttemberg was more important. Like most Germans, whether there
was war or no war, seemed much the same thing with him. Eith