“I will wait for the dawn and read thee thy fortune,” I said, “and charge thee nothing for it but a kick to help thee on thy way.”
He laughed again at that.
“Thou provest thyself an ass,” said he, and refilled and lit his pipe and smoked on silently.
I lay awake near him, because, churl as he appeared, I felt the advantage of any human companionship in these beast-haunted thickets.
At last the light of dawn penetrated a little to where we rested, and when it was broad enough to distinguish objects by, I rolled upon my elbow and scrutinised my companion closely.
“Good morrow, then, burner of charcoal.”
He turned to me, a leering smile suspended on his lips.
“Comment?” said he.
“But I am a palmist, my friend, as you observe.”
He looked at his stunted and blackened fists.