"Pray, my friend," said Hubby, instantly, "know you one Bob Rakeabout, a singularly gifted youth who, I am informed, hath obtained the significant epithet of the 'Noose-larnt?'"
The man took his short black pipe from his mouth, and stared agape for a few seconds, and then said, with a smothered laugh,—
"Oh, Bob! Ay, I know him well: he's famous for noose-larning!"
Hubby Dickinson's heart leaped within him, and he bounded from the side of the road into the centre of the lane, and, grasping the man's hand, conjured him to lead him to the youth's presence. By this time, three or four more dark faces had gathered at the entrance of the tent.
"Come in a bit," said the man to whom the antiquary had addressed himself. And, winking at his companions, the gipsy led Hubby into the tent.
Hubby was placed upon a sack that covered a clump of wood, and was invited to partake some bread and cheese,—while a boy ran into the village to fetch Bob Rakeabout. Having, in his eagerness, utterly forgot his breakfast at home, Hubby felt nothing loth when he saw the food, and accordingly accepted a "good farrantly piece," as the gipsies called it. A humming horn of ale followed, and then another, and another. Indeed, the contents of the huge black earthen bottle were passed about rather freely. Endless questions followed, and strange answers were given; and sometimes the gipsies stared, and at others they smiled, and often they were in danger of laughing outright.
At length the boy returned, and, behold! immediately afterwards Bob Rakeabout, the "Noose-larnt" himself, entered the tent! Hubby rose to receive him, bareheaded; but, he knew not how it was, it was somewhat difficult for him to stand, and so he sat down again. As for the great natural phenomenon himself, he stretched his brawny hand to each of the gipsies, and they shook it with remarkable good-humour. Then, seizing the black earthen bottle, he applied it to his mouth, without either using the horn or waiting for invitation to drink.
Hubby's thinkings were becoming somewhat confused; but he turned, inwardly, to the fact that Diogenes threw away his dish when he saw the boy drink out of his hand. "Of a verity, the youth is one of Nature's own miracles!" said he to himself.
Forthwith, Bob Rakeabout rakishly laughed as he took out a large pouch, composed of mole-skins, and filled with tobacco. He laid it open on the floor of the tent, filled his own short pipe from it, and the gipsies immediately followed his example. Hubby, as yet, had scarcely spoken to Bob; but when the whole company began to smoke, and the antiquary was again pressed to drink, for more than one reason he quietly remarked that he much wished to converse with this youth alone.
"Oh, ay," replied the gipsy, whom Hubby had seen first, "Bob will have no objection to that:—you can show this gentleman some noose-larning, can't you, Bob?"