quack reached into his bosom, drew forth a pistol, pointed it at the
right eye of the gypsy, and said: "Look into the mouth of that and tell
me whether you see a bullet lying in its throat!"

"I zink zat ze senor an' heez piztol are boz lying in zeir zroats," he
answered with easy irony.

"Good! But I am not here to match wits with you. I want that horse, and
lie or no lie, I will have it. Take me to it, or I swear I will blow out
your brains as sure as they are made of bacon and baby flesh!"

The gypsy vouchsafed no reply, but turned on his heel and led the way
into the forest.

After a walk of a hundred yards or more they came to a booth of boughs,
through the loose sides of which could be seen a black stallion.

"Lead him out," said the doctor imperatively; and the gypsy obeyed.

The magnificent animal came forth snorting, pawing the ground and
tossing his head in the air.

The eye of the quack kindled, and after regarding the noble creature for
a moment in silent admiration he turned to the gypsy and said,
"Baltasar, do not misunderstand me, I am neither an officer of the law
nor in any other way a minister of justice. I have as few scruples as
you as to how I get a horse; but we differ from each other in this, that
if you were in my place you would take the horse without giving an
equivalent. Now I am a man of mercy, and if you will ask a fair price
you shall have it. But mark me! Do not overreach yourself and kill the
goose that is about to lay the golden egg."

"Wat muz be, muz be," the gypsy answered, shrugging his shoulders as if
in the presence of an inexorable fate, and added: "Ze brice iz zwo
hunner and viftee dollars, wiz ze mare drown een."

Putting his pistol back into his pocket with an air of triumph, the
doctor said: "There seems to be persuasive power in cold lead. Stretch
forth your palm and I will cross it for you."

The gypsy did so, and into that tiger-like paw he counted the golden
coin; at the musical clink of each piece the eye of the gypsy
brightened, and when he closed his hand upon them and thrust them into
his pocket his hair-lip curled with a cynical smile.

The stranger took the bridle and saddle from his mare, placed them on
the stallion and mounted.

As they moved forward through the silent forest the gypsy sang softly to
himself:

"The Romany chal to his horse did cry
As he placed the bit in his jaw,
Kosko gry, Romany gry,
Muk, man, kuster, tut