Bunderwal and Cugel quickly hauled up the shutter to its original position and moved to new seats. Cugel said, “I feel that I must be declared winner of the game, since yours was the last hand to touch the chain.”

“By no means!” Bunderwal protested. “The thrust of the game, as stated, was to dislodge a cap from the head of one of three persons. This was not done, since Krasnark chose to interrupt the play.”

“Here he is now,” said Cugel. “He is examining the shutter with an air of perplexity.”

“I see no point in carrying the matter any further,” said Bunderwal. “So far as I am concerned, the game is ended.”

“Except for the adjudication,” said Cugel. “I am clearly the winner, from almost any point of view.”

Bunderwal could not be swayed. “Krasnark wore no cap, and there the matter must rest. Let me suggest another test, in which chance plays a more decisive role.”

“Here is the boy with our beer, at last. Boy, you are remarkably slow!”

“Sorry, sir. Krasnark fell into the still-room and caused no end of tumult.”

“Very well; no more need be said. Bunderwal, explain your game.”

“It is so simple as to be embarrassing. The door yonder leads out to the urinal. Look about the room; select a champion. I will do likewise. Whichever champion is last to patronize the urinal wins the game for his sponsor.”

“The contest seems fair,” said Cugel. “Have you selected a champion?”

“I have indeed. And you?”

“I selected my man on the instant. I believe him to be invincible in a contest of this sort. He is the somewhat elderly man with the thin nose and the pursy mouth sitting directly to my left. He is not large but I am made confident by the abstemious manner in which he holds his glass.”

“He is a good choice,” Bunderwal admitted. “By coincidence I have selected his companion, the gentleman in the gray robe who sips his beer as if with distaste.”

Cugel summoned the serving boy and spoke behind his hand, out of Bunderwal’s hearing. “The two gentlemen to my left — why do they drink so slowly?”

The boy shrugged. “If you want the truth, they hate to part with their coin, although both command ample funds. Still, they sit by the hour nursing a gill of our most acrid brew.”

“In that case,” said Cugel, “bring the gentleman in the gray cloak a double-quart of your best ale, at my expense, but do not identify me.”

“Very good, sir.”

The boy turned at a signal from Bunderwal who also initiated a short muttered conversation. The boy bowed and ran down to the still-room. Presently he returned to serve the two champions large double-quart mugs of ale, which, after explanation from the boy, they accepted with gloomy good grace, though clearly they were mystified by the bounty.

Cugel became dissatisfied at the fervent manner in which his champion now drank beer. “I fear that I made a poor selection,” he fretted. “He drinks as if he had just come in after a day in the desert.”

Bunderwal was equally critical of his own champion. “He is already nose-deep in the double-quart. That trick of yours, Cugel, if I must say so, was definitely underhanded. I was forced to protect my own interests, at considerable expense.”

Cugel thought, by conversation, to distract his champion from the beer. He leaned over and said: “Sir, you are a resident of Saskervoy, I take it?”

“I am that,” said the gentleman. “We are noted for our reluctance to talk with strangers in outlandish costumes.”

“You are also noted for your sobriety,” suggested Cugel.

“That is nonsense!” declared the champion. “Observe the folk around this room, all gulping beer by the gallon. Excuse me, I wish to follow their example.”

“I must warn you that this local beer is congestive,” said Cugel. “With every mouthful you risk a spasmodic disorder.”

“Balderdash! Beer purifies the blood! Put aside your own drink, if you are alarmed, but leave me in peace with mine.” Raising his mug, the champion drank an impressive draught.

Displeased with Cugel’s maneuver, Bunderwal sought to distract his own champion by treading on his toe and causing an altercation, which might have persisted for a goodly period, had not Cugel interceded and pulled Bunderwal back to his chair. “Play the game by sporting standards or I withdraw from the contest!”

“Your own tactics are somewhat sharp,” muttered Bunderwal.

“Very well!” said Cugel. “Let us have no more interference, of any sort!”

“I agree, but the point becomes moot as your champion is showing signs of uneasiness. He is about to rise to his feet, in which case I win.”

“Not so! The first to use the trough loses the game. Notice! Your own champion is rising to his feet; they are going together.”

“Then the first to leave the common room must be deemed loser, since almost certainly he will be first at the trough!”

“With my champion in the lead? Not so! The first actually to use the trough is the loser.”

“Come then; there can be no exact judgment from this distance.”

Cugel and Bunderwal hastened to follow the two champions: through the yard and out to an illuminated shed where a trough fixed to a masonry wall served the needs of the inn’s patrons.

The two champions seemed in no hurry; they paused to comment upon the mildness of the night, then, almost in synchrony, went to the trough. Cugel and Bunderwal followed, one to each side, and made ready to render judgment.

The two champions prepared to relieve themselves. Cugel’s champion, glancing to the side, noticed the quality of Cugel’s attention, and instantly became indignant. “What are you looking at? Landlord! Out here at once! Call the night-guards!”

Cugel tried to explain. “Sir, the situation is not as you think! Bunderwal will verify the case! Bunderwal?”

Bunderwal, however, had returned to the common room. Krasnark, the landlord appeared, a bandage across his forehead. “Please, sirs, a moment of quiet! Master Chernitz, be good enough to compose yourself! What is the difficulty?”

“No difficulty!” sputtered Chernitz. “An outrage, rather! I came out here to relieve myself, whereupon this person ranged himself beside me and acted most offensively. I raised the alarm at once!”

His friend, Bunderwal’s erstwhile champion, spoke through clenched lips: “I stand behind the accusation! This man should be ejected from the premises and warned out of town!”

Krasnark turned to Cugel. “These are serious charges! How do you answer them?”

“Master Chernitz is mistaken! I also came out here to relieve myself. Glancing along the wall I noticed my friend Bunderwal and signaled to him, whereupon Master Chernitz set up an embarrassing outcry, and made infamous hints! Better that you eject these two old tree-weasels!”

“What?” cried Chernitz in a passion. “I am a man of substance!”

Krasnark threw up his arms. “Gentlemen, be reasonable! The matter is essentially trivial. Agreed: Cugel should not make signals and greet his friends at the urinal. Master Chernitz might be more generous in his assumptions. I suggest that Master Chernitz retract the term ‘moral leper’ and Cugel his ‘tree-weasel’, and there let the matter rest.”

“I am not accustomed to such degradations,” said Cugel. “Until Master Chernitz apologizes, the term remains in force.”

Cugel returned to the common room and resumed his place beside Bunderwal. “You left the urinal quite abruptly,” said Cugel. “I waited to verify the results of the contest. Your champion was defeated by several seconds.”

“Only after you distracted your own champion. The contest is void.”

Master Chernitz and his friend returned to their seats. After a single cold glance toward Cugel, they turned away and spoke in low voices.