iously for a moment--then, turning to his horse
with a loud curse, he pulled him up from his haunches, and led him and
the cart farther down to one side of the dingle, muttering, as he passed
me, 'Afraid! Hm!'

I do not remember ever to have seen a more ruffianly-looking fellow; he
was about six feet high, with an immensely athletic frame; his face was
black and bluff, and sported an immense pair of whiskers, but with here
and there a gray hair, for his age could not be much under fifty. He
wore a faded blue frock-coat, corduroys, and highlows; on his black head
was a kind of red nightcap, round his bull neck a Barcelona
handkerchief--I did not like the look of the man at all.

'Afraid!' growled the fellow, proceeding to unharness his horse; 'that
was the word, I think.'

But other figures were now already upon the scene. Dashing past the
other horse and cart, which by this time had reached the bottom of the
pass, appeared an exceedingly tall woman, or rather girl, for she could
scarcely have been above eighteen; she was dressed in a tight bodice and
a blue stuff gown; hat, bonnet, or cap she had none, and her hair, which
was flaxen, hung down on her shoulders unconfined; her complexion was
fair, and her features handsome, with a determined but open
expression--she was followed by another female, about forty, stout and
vulgar-looking, at whom I scarcely glanced, my whole attention being
absorbed by the tall girl.

'What's the matter, Jack?' said the latter, looking at the man.

'Only afraid, that's all,' said the man, still proceeding with his work.

'Afraid at what--at that lad? why, he looks like a ghost--I would engage
to thrash him with one hand.'

'You might beat me with no hands at all,' said I, 'fair damsel, only by
looking at me--I never saw such a face and figure, both regal--why, you
look like Ingeborg, Queen of Norway; she had twelve brothers, you know,
and could lick them all, though they were heroes:--

On Dovrefeld in Norway
Were once together seen
The twelve heroic brothers
Of Ingeborg the queen.'

'None of your chaffing, young fellow,' said the tall girl, 'or I will
give you what shall make you wipe your face; be civil, or you will rue
it.'

'Well, perhaps I was a peg too high,' said I; 'I ask your pardon--here's
something a bit lower:--

As I was jawing to the gav yeck divvus
I met on the drom miro Rommany chi--'

None of your Rommany chies, young fellow,' said the