ha! ha! ha!"

"Ze Buzno will dake us do brizon, hee! hee! hee!" giggled the little
impish child who tugged at her skirts.

The old woman pressed forward and mumbled, "'Ol' oud your 'an', my
pretty fellow. Crozz ze ol' gypsy's palm, and zhe will dell your
fortune."

With every new refusal, the resolute stranger became still more
determined. "Pearls are not to be had without a plunge," he murmured to
himself, and dismounted.

Throwing the bridle of his horse over the limb of a tree, he approached
the woman with a threatening gesture.

As he did so, the three female figures began to revolve around him in a
circle, pointing their fingers at him and hissing like vipers. As the
old woman passed before his face she threw a handful of snuff in his
eyes--an act which has been, from time immemorial, the female gypsy's
last resort.

Had he been less agile than he was, it would have proved a finishing
stroke, but there are some animals that can never be caught asleep, or
even napping, and he was one. He winked and dodged, and, quicker than a
flash, brought the old crone a sharp cut across her knuckles with his
riding whip.

As he did so, Baltasar sprang at his throat, but he once more drew his
pistol and leveled it at the gypsy's head. His patience had been