"She gin me a good yarn, one that I'm thinkin's going to come true."
"Why do you think so? I supposed you were above superstition, Mr.
Jounce."
"So I be, but sence a part of the prophecy has come true, why shouldn't the rest?"
"Sure enough."
"You agree with me there?"
"Certainly."
"Then I'll tell you the rest on't, though its sometimes made my blood run cold when I think on't," proceeded the tramp, looking up into the face of his companion, with blood-stained countenance, and eyes that were sodden with pain and passion. He looked like some prisoner of state doomed to the martyr's stake, as he sat there in the dim light and talked in a solemn monotone that was weird and unnatural.
"The old witch said I was to meet with many misfortunes, pass a dreadful crisis, and then come out with flying colors.
"But I'm a gittin' ahead of my story. My sister—I had but one—was to make a mismatch with a gambler and outlaw. He was to cause her and me a heap o' trouble. Finally the husban' was ter plot ter put his wife outen the way so't he could git another gal with a big fortune."
"Nonsense."