At last he found what he sought, and fitting the rims to his nose,
rose to his feet and stared at me.
“Hey, what!” he said--“a sweep! Well!”--and blew out a rumbling grunt,
which he checked suddenly, as if he had turned a cock on it.
A moment after, he put his hand into his pocket, and fetching out a
dirty fragment of biscuit, held it to me persuasively, as one might
lure a colt. Seeing, however, that I still held away from him, he
threw the biscuit down in a pet, and stood to canvass me in a baleful
manner.
“What do you want?” he snapped out suddenly. “How did you find your
way here?”