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Updated: June 11, 2025
"That I refuse to do," said the Angel. "And you are wise, sir, for it is a puzzler, and many have cracked their heads over it. But have we not been here long enough? We can pursue our researches into the higher realms of art to-morrow." A beam from the Angel's lustrous eyes fell on a lady at the next table. "Yes, perhaps we had better go," he sighed.
"Is there any attachment to it that will make her dream of me all night?" asked the boy. "No, sir! Don't be a hog," said the bad man. "Then what is it?" The old man said one word, "Corset!" The young man was delighted, and he went to a store to buy a nice corset. "What size do you want?" asked the girl who waited on him. That was a puzzler. He didn't know they came in sizes.
Stane gave an account of the mysterious visit of the previous night and of the stranger they had seen in the wood that morning and the policeman listened carefully. "The girl's a puzzler," he said, "but the stranger may be my man. He knows his life is forfeit, and he's ripe for any sort of crime. I guess I'll move on after him when I've had a rest."
By midnight the squalls ceased, and the stars came out. Captain Davenport was cheered by the promise of a clear day. "I'll get an observation in the morning," he told McCoy, "though what my latitude is, is a puzzler. But I'll use the Sumner method, and settle that. Do you know the Sumner line?" And thereupon he explained it in detail to McCoy.
Crow really knew a great deal, because he had lived many years. And he pretended to know still more, because he liked to appear learned. But this question was a puzzler for him. He simply couldn't answer it. "You wouldn't understand, even if I explained," he told Frisky Squirrel. And then he flew away, leaving Frisky to run home and wonder what it meant to have nine lives. As for Mr.
"Puzzlehead" they had called him at his preparatory school, Old Puzzlehead Sabre, the chap who always wrinkled up his nut over things and came out with the most extraordinary ideas. He had remained, and increasingly become, the puzzler.
It is, no doubt, a clumsy substitute for algebra; but young folks who have not learnt algebra, will find it a very entertaining method of making out all such sums as the following old puzzler, over which Aunt Judy was now poring: "There is a certain fish, whose head is 9 inches in length, his tail as long as his head and half of his back, and his back as long as both head and tail together.
Morgan looked at me, then at the sky, then down at the ground; then away straight before him, as he took off his hat and scratched one ear. "Humph!" he ejaculated, suddenly; "that's a puzzler, Master George. Do you know I never thought of that." "It seems to me horribly cruel." "But then, you see, Master George, they're blacks, and that makes all the difference."
"As my father would have liked to see me fight, if he had been there?" "Well, sir, that question's a puzzler. You see, fathers is fathers, and, as far as ever I've been able to find out, they don't like their boys to fight. Why, my father was always giving me and Nat the strap for fighting, because we was always at it strap as he wore round his waist, when he wasn't banging our heads together.
Even the "Belief of a Barman" is not beyond the scope of a rational probability. Mr. Le Gallienne's long-promised evangel "burst upon the town" a month ago. The "Religio Scriptoris" which a puzzler at Latin might render as "The Religion of a Scribbler" made a dainty appearance. The title-page was in two colors, with a pretty arabesque border.
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