e
an' camped by us tonight. 10 mild.

I remember well the coming of those gypsies. We were fishing in sight of
the road and our fire was crackling on the smooth cropped shore. The big
wagons of the gypsies--there were four of them as red and beautiful as
those of a circus caravan--halted about sundown while the men came over
a moment to scan the field. Presently they went back and turned their
wagons into the siding and began to unhitch. Then a lot of barefooted
children, and women under gay shawls, overran the field gathering wood
and making ready for night. Meanwhile swarthy drivers took the horses to
water and tethered them with long ropes so they could crop the grass of
the roadside.

One tall, bony man, with a face almost as black as that of an Indian,
brought a big iron pot and set it up near the water. A big stew of beef
bone, leeks and potatoes began to cook shortly, and I remember it had
such a goodly smell I was minded to ask them for a taste of it. A little
city of strange people had surrounded us of a sudden. Uncle Eb thought
of going on, but the night was coming fast and there would be no moon
and we were footsore and hungry. Women and children came over to our
fire, after supper, and made more of me than I liked. I remember taking
refuge between the knees of Uncle Eb, and Fred sat close in front of
us growling fiercely when they came too near. They stood about, looking
down at us and whispered together, and one young miss of the tribe came
up and tried to kiss me in spite of Fred's warnings: She had flashing
black eyes and hair as dark as the night, that fell in a curling mass
upon her shoulders; but, somehow, I had a mighty fear of her and fought
with desperation to keep my face from the touch of her red lips. Uncle
Eb laughed and held Fred by the collar, and I began to cry out in
terror, presently, when, to my great relief, she let go and ran away to
her own people. They all went away to their wagons, save one young man,
who was tall with light hair and a fair skin, and who looked like none
of the other gypsies.

'Take care of yourself,' he whispered, as soon as the rest had gone.
'These are bad people. You'd better be off.'

The young man left us and Uncle Eb began to pack up at once. They were
going to bed in their wagons when we came away. I stood in the basket
and Fred drew the wagon that had in it only a few bundles. A mile or
more further on we came to a lonely, deserted cabin close to the road