AN OLD FRIEND.
Some moments elapsed before I could fix upon the occasion or the place. All at once the truth flashed upon me. It was Strawberry Flat! I had slept with the man! This was the identical wretch who had robbed me of my stockings! In the excitement produced by the discovery and the recollection of my blistered feet, I verily believe, had I been armed with a broad-sword or battle-axe, after the fashion of Brian de Bois Guilbert, I would have cloven him in twain.
"Ha! I remember; it was at Strawberry! You slept with me one night," said I, in a tone of suppressed passion.
"Das is it! Das is it!" cried the Jew. "I shlept mit you at Sthrawberry!"
The effrontery of the villain was remarkable. Probably he would even acknowledge the theft.
"Friend," said I, calmly and deliberately, "did you miss a pair of woolen stockings in the morning about the time you started?"
"Look here!" quoth the wretch, suddenly halting, "was dey yours?"
"They were!"