uld 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
exhausted.

"Fool!" he cried, "Bring this woman to reason. This is a wild country,
and a family of gypsies would be missed as little as a litter of blind
puppies! Bring her to reason, I say, or I will murder every one of you!"

Once more shrugging those expressive shoulders which seemed to have a
language of their own, the gypsy said "Chicarona, you do not luf ze
leedle pindarri. Zell 'er to ze Buzno. Ee eez made of gol'."

As Baltasar uttered these words, he approached his wife and whispered
something in her ear at which she started. Turning with a sudden motion
to the stranger, she fixed her piercing eyes upon him and exclaimed,
"You zay you know ze parenz of zis chil'?"

"I do."

"You lie!"

"How, then, did I know that you had stolen her?"

"You guezz zat! Any vool gan guezz zat! I zdole 'er, but who I zdole 'er
vrom, you do not know any more zan you know why ze frogs zdop zinging
when ze light zhines."

"Ah! You did steal her, did you? Why do gypsies steal children when they
have so many of their own, and it is so easy to raise more, Chicarona?"

"Azk ze tiger why it zpringz, or ze lightning why it zdrikes! I will
alzo azk ze Caballero a queztion. What doez he wan' wiz zis leedle
gurrl?"

"To be a father to her!" he answered, with a sly wink at Baltasar.

"Alzo' I am dressed in wool, I am no sheep! Tell me," she cried,
stamping her foot.

"Why should I tell secrets to one who can read the future?" he asked
banteringly.

Chicarona's mood was changing. It was evident from her looks, either
that she was defeated in the contest by this wily and resistless
combatant or that she had succumbed to the temptation of his money.

"How much will you gif vor zis chil'?" she asked.

"One hundred dollars," he replied.

"One hunner dollars! You paid more zan twize as much vor ze horze! Eez
nod a woman worth more zan a horze?"

"She will be, when she is a woman. She is a child now."

"Let me zee ze color of your money!"

He drew a leather wallet from his pocket and held it tantalizingly
before her eyes.

Its influence wa