r biz when it comes to
telling fortunes," ventured a young dandy, whose head had been turned by
Pepeeta's beauty.

"D-d-daughter!" snapped the quack, turning sharply upon him; "she's not
my daughter, she's my wife!"

"Wife! Gosh! You don't say?" exclaimed the crestfallen dandy.

"Yes, wife! And I'll j-j-just warn any of you young f-f-fellers that if
I catch you trying to p-p-plow with my heifer, you'll be food for
buzzards before sun-up!"

He swept his eyes savagely round the circle as he spoke, and the subject
dropped.

The conversation turned into other channels, and flowed in a maudlin,
sluggish manner far into the night. Every member of the bibulous party
was as happy as he knew how to be. The landlord's till was full of
money, the loafers were full of liquor, and the doctor's heart was full
of vanity and trust in himself.

CHAPTER III.

THE EGYPTIANS

"Steal! to be sure they may; and egad, serve your best thoughts as
gypsies do stolen children,--disfigure them to make them pass for
their own."

--Sheridan.

In order to comprehend the relationship of this strangely mated pair, we
must go back five or six years to a certain day when this same Doctor
Aesculapius rode slowly down the main street of a small city in Western
Pennsylvania, and then out along a rugged country highway. A 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 appeari