"Indeed, ma'am, you—you make me sort of uneasy! What danger can there be for a poor, peaceful peddler pursuing his path?"
"Oh, my good soul, may heaven keep you from—Black Donald!"
"Black Donald—who's he?"
"Oh, my good man, he's the awfullest villain that ever went unhung!"
"Black Donald? Black Donald? Never heard that name before in my life? Why is the fellow called Black Donald?"
"Oh, sir, he's called Black Donald for his black soul, black deeds and—and—also, I believe, for his jet black hair and beard."
"'Oh, my countrymen, what a falling up was there,'" exclaimed Capitola at this anti-climax.
"And how shall I keep from meeting this villain?" asked the peddler.
"Oh, sir, how can I tell you? You never can form an idea where he is or where he isn't! Only think, he may be in our midst any time, and we not know it! Why, only yesterday the desperate villain handcuffed the very sheriff in the very courtyard! Yet I wonder the sheriff did not know him at once! For my own part, I'm sure I should know Black Donald the minute I clapped my two looking eyes on him!"
"Should you, ma'am?"