The Redemption of David Corson | Page 8

couple of miles brought him to the camp of a band of gypsies.
A thin column of smoke ascending from a fire which seemed almost too lazy to burn, curled slowly into the air.
Around this campfire was a picturesque group of persons, all of whom, with a single exception, vanished like a covey of quail at the approach of the stranger. The man who stood his ground was a truly sinister being. He was tall, thin and angular; his clothing was scant and ragged, his face bronzed with exposure to the sun. A thin moustache of straggling hairs served rather to exaggerate than to conceal the vicious expression of a hare-lipped mouth. He stood with his elbow in the palm of one hand and his chin in the other, while around his legs a pack of wolf-like dogs crawled and growled as the traveler drew near. Throwing himself lightly to the ground the intruder kicked the curs who sprang at him, and as the terrified pack went howling into the door of the tent, said cheerily.
"Good-morning, Baltasar."
The gypsy acknowledged his salutation with a frown.
"I wish to sell this horse," the traveler added, without appearing to notice his cold reception.
The gypsy swept his eye over the animal and shook his head.
"If you will not buy, perhaps you will trade," the traveler said.
"Come," was the laconic response, and so saying, the gypsy turned towards the forest which lay just beyond the camp. The "doctor" obeyed, and the dogs sneaked after him, still growling, but keeping a respectful distance. A moment later he found himself in a sequestered spot where there was an improvised stable; and a dozen or more horses glancing up from their feed whinnied a welcome.
"Look zem over," said the gypsy, again putting his elbow in his left hand and his chin in his right--a posture into which he always fell when in repose.
The quack, moving among the animals with an easy, familiarity, glanced them over quickly but carefully, and shook his head.
"What!" exclaimed the gypsy with well feigned surprise; "ze se?or doez not zee ze horse he wanz?"
"Horses!" exclaimed the quack; "these are not horses. These are boneyards. Every one of them is as much worse than mine as mine is than the black stallion you stole in Pittsburg on the twenty-first day of last October."
"Worze zan yourz! It eez impozzeeble!" answered the gypsy, as if he had not heard the accusation. "Ziz horze ov yourz eez what you call a crow-zcare! Zhe eez two hunner year ol'. Her teeth are fell oud. Zhe haz ze zpavins. Zhe haz ze ringa bonze. But, se?or," growing suddenly respectful, and spreading out his hands in open and persuasive gestures, "ere eez a horze zat eez a horze. Ee knowz more zan a man! Ee gan work een ze arnez, ee gan work een ze zaddle; ee gan drot; ee can gallop; ee gan bead ze winz!"
The gypsy had played his part well and concealed with consummate art whatever surprise he might have felt at the charge of theft. His attitude was free, his look was bold and his manner full of confidence.
The demeanor of the quack suddenly altered. From that of an easy nonchalance, it turned to savage determination.
"Baltasar," he said, his face white and hard; "let us stop our acting. Where is that stallion?"
"Whad ztallion?" asked the imperturbable gypsy, with an expression of child-like innocence.
"I will not even take time to tell you, but if you do not take me to him this instant there will be a dead gypsy in these woods," said the quack fiercely.
"Ze zdranger jesz!" the gypsy answered blandly, showing his teeth and spreading out the palms of his hands.
The quack reached into his bosom, drew forth a pistol, pointed it at the right eye of the gypsy, and said: "Look into the mouth of that and tell me whether you see a bullet lying in its throat!"
"I zink zat ze se?or an' heez piztol are boz lying in zeir zroats," he answered with easy irony.
"Good! But I am not here to match wits with you. I want that horse, and lie or no lie, I will have it. Take me to it, or I swear I will blow out your brains as sure as they are made of bacon and baby flesh!"
The gypsy vouchsafed no reply, but turned on his heel and led the way into the forest.
After a walk of a hundred yards or more they came to a booth of boughs, through the loose sides of which could be seen a black stallion.
"Lead him out," said the doctor imperatively; and the gypsy obeyed.
The magnificent animal came forth snorting, pawing the ground and tossing his head in the air.
The eye of the quack kindled, and after regarding the noble creature for a moment in silent