The young Englishman took off his hat, and produced a phrase book from his pocket.

He ignored the stream of words which the station-master, with many gesticulations, was already pouring out.
"My luggage," he said firmly, laying one hand upon the pile, and waving the phrase book.
The station-master acquiesced heartily.

He waxed eloquent again, but the Englishman was busy with the phrase book.
"Hungry! Hotel ?" he attempted.
The station-master pointed to where the smoke was curling upwards from a score or so of houses about half a mile distant.

The Englishman was getting pleased with himself.

Outside was a weird-looking carriage, and on the box seat, fast asleep, was a very fat man in a shiny hat, ornamented by a bunch of feathers.