Russia, Rumania, Bulgaria, Bohemia, Persia, Armenia were all one
hunting-ground to the troupe we rode with. Even the children seemed
to have a smattering of most of the tongues men speak in those intriguing
lands. Will and the girl beside him conversed in German, but the
old hag nearest me would not confess acquaintance with any language
I knew. Again and again I tried her, but she always shook her head.

Fred, with his ready gift of tongues, attempted conversation with
ten or a dozen of them, but whichever language he used in turn appeared
to be the only one which that particular individual did not know.
All he got in reply was grins, and awkward silence, and shrugs of
the shoulders in Gregor's direction, implying that the head of the
firm did the talking with strangers. But Gregor rode alone with
Monty, out of ear-shot.

Maga (for so they all called her) flirted with Will outrageously,
if that is flirting that proclaims conquest from the start, and sets
flashing white teeth in defiance of all intruders. Even the little
children had hidden weapons, but Maga was better armed than any one,
and she thrust the new mother-o-pearl-plated acquisition in the face
of one of the men who dared drive his horse between hers and Will's.
That not serving more than to amuse him, she slapped him three times
back-handed across the face, and thrusting the pistol back into her
bosom, drew a knife. He seemed in no doubt of her willingness to
use the steel, and backed his horse away, followed by language from
her like forked lightning that disturbed him more than the threatening
weapon. Gipsies are great believers in the efficiency of a curse.