onel and the
colonel returned the stare.

"Caxley-Webster! Well, I say, this globe goes on shrinking every day!"
cried Courtlandt.

The two pumped hands energetically, sizing each other up critically. Then
they sat down and shot questions, while Abbott looked on bewildered.
Elephants and tigers and chittahs and wild boar and quail-running and
strange guttural names; weltering nights in the jungles, freezing mornings
in the Hills; stupendous card games; and what had become of so-and-so, who
always drank his whisky neat; and what's-his-name, who invented cures for
snake bites!

Abbott deliberately pushed over an oak bench. "Am I host here or not?"

"Abby, old man, how are you?" said Courtlandt, smiling warmly and holding
out his hand. "My apologies; but the colonel and I never expected to see
each other again. And I find him talking with you up here under this roof.
It's marvelous."

"It's a wonder you wouldn't drop a fellow a line," said Abbott, in a
faultfinding tone, as he righted the bench. "When did you come?"

"Last night. Came up from Como."

"Going to stay long?"

"That depends. I am really on my way to Zermatt. I've a hankering to have
another try at the Matterhorn."

"Think of that!" exclaimed the colonel. "He says another try."

"You came a roundabout way," was the artist's comment.

"Oh, that's because I left Paris for Brescia. They had some good flights
there. Wonderful year! They cross the Channel in an airship and discover
the North Pole."

"Pah! Neither will be of any use to humanity; merely a fine sporting
proposition." The colonel dug into his pocket for his pipe. "But what do
you think of Germany?"

"Fine country," answered Courtlandt, rising and going to a window; "fine
people, too. Why?"

"Do you--er--think they could whip us?"

"On land, yes."

"The devil!"

"On water, no."

"Thanks. In other words, you believe our chances equal?"

"So equal that all this war-scare is piffle. But I rather like to see you
English get up in the air occasionally. It will do you good. You've an
idea because you walloped Napoleon that you're the same race you were
then, and you are not. The English-speaking races, as the first soldiers,
have ceased to be."

"Well, I be dem!" gasped the colonel.

"It's the truth. Take the American: he thinks there is nothing in the
world but money. Take the Britisher: to him caste is everything. Take the
money out of one man's mind and the importance of being w