"Yes, sir. Do it now, an' do it proper. That's the motto of the navy. Only 'steady,' too. 'Steady does it,' is another motto. The man as ain't never done no courting before 'e gets married, ought to be buried an' not married at all."
"I've just had my fortune told by that gipsy woman."
"That ain't nothing, sir. I've 'ad it done 'undreds of times, an' all different," the little sailor remarked, cheerfully. "When I was in Calcutta——"
So listening to Bounce's wonderful adventures, Carstairs had a very pleasant morning drive. They stopped at a little country public house and got some bread and cheese and beer; Bounce, meanwhile, enlarging on the virtue of beer in general, and that beer in particular.
Then they got into the trap again and completed a circuit of the locality, bringing up finally at the far side of the little common.
"Hullo!" said Bounce. "What's up there?"
They could see a dense crowd of navvies from the water-works moving in the direction of the gipsy camp.
Carstairs looked, anxiously. "Hope there's no row on with the gipsies," he said. They could hear much shouting and singing, but could not distinguish the words. A turn in the road brought the camp full into view: there was much commotion going on, the gipsies were pulling their caravans up together as if to withstand an assault.
"We must stop those chaps, Bounce," Carstairs said, as he whipped up the horse and tore along the road at a furious gallop. They cut across the level strip of green at the acute angle of the common, and raced along the other road. They reached the navvies some three hundred yards from the camp. As they got within earshot they could distinguish what the men were shouting. Carstairs flushed an angry red and set his big jaw tight. "And this is England," he said. "England, in the year of grace 1896, 'England, the eye, the soul of Europe,' as Darwen used to quote."
"What's started them on this devil's game, Bounce?"