“Gee,” said Jim Dawson, “you fellows certainly do have all the luck. If I’d been with you there’d have been nothing more exciting than a rabbit scurrying across the road. To-day I stayed behind and here you fellows have watched the pitching of a gipsy camp.”
“Never mind, Jim,” said Tom, “we’ll all go over soon and take it in. I suppose they’ll be there for some time.”
“There’s no telling,” remarked Dick. “Sometimes they stay in one place for two or three weeks, until the call of the road becomes so strong that they can’t resist it. Then again, after a day or two, they
“‘Fold their tents like the Arabs
And silently steal away.’”
“‘Steal’ is a very good word to use in that connection, Dick,” said Mr. Hollis, as he joined the group, when after an abundant supper they sat around the campfire; “for if what we hear of gipsies in general is true, they spend most of their time in stealing.”
“Perhaps, though,” he went on, “that is putting it a little too harshly. There is a strong prejudice against them because of their vagrant mode of life, and there is no doubt that the distinction between ‘mine’ and ‘thine’ is very vague in their minds. Hen-roosts are apt to be mysteriously thinned out when they are in the neighborhood, and many a porker has uttered his last squeal when gripped by a gipsy hand. Horses, too, occasionally vanish in a way that would mean a short shrift and a rope in the Western country, if the thief were caught. But, on the other hand, they seldom commit deeds of violence. You never hear of their blowing open a safe, and, though they are passionate and hot tempered, they are not often charged with murder. The Bowery thug and yeggman are much more dangerous enemies to society than the average gipsy. Perhaps the worst indictment to be brought against them is that in years past they were frequently guilty of kidnapping. But that was in the earlier days, when the country was sparsely settled and communication was difficult. Then, if they got a good start, it was often impossible to overtake them. But to-day, with the country thickly populated and the telegraph and telephone everywhere, they would most certainly be caught. No doubt the elders of the tribe shake their heads sadly as they reflect that the kidnapping industry is no longer what it has been.”
“How do they make a living, anyway?” interjected Dave. “What they steal isn’t enough to keep them alive.”
“Well,” returned Mr. Hollis, “the men are very keen traders in horses. They know a horse from mane to hoof. They can take a poor old wreck of a cart horse and doctor him up until he looks and acts like a thoroughbred. Very few men can get ahead of them in a trade, as many a farmer has found to his cost. The women are often very expert in embroidery and find a ready sale for their really beautiful work. Then, too, as fortune tellers they are proverbial the world over. Cross a gipsy’s palm with gold or silver and she’ll predict for you a future that kings and queens might envy. It is safe to say that during their stay here they will reap quite a harvest—enough at least to suffice for the simple needs of to-day. As for to-morrow, they don’t care. That can take care of itself. They are as irresponsible as crickets or butterflies. They ‘never trouble trouble till trouble troubles them.’”
“Well,” said Dave, “they get rid of a whole lot of needless worry, anyway. They don’t suffer as much as the old lady did who said that she had had an awful lot of trouble in her life and most of it had never happened.”