"I will tell you now all about it, my friend. The charm belonged to my mother's mother. She, as I dare say you have heard, was a gipsy. My grandfather fell in love with her and married her. He was a well-to-do man, owning a bit of land of his own; but he would go to law with a neighbour and lost it, and it went to the lawyer. Well, my grandmother brought the charm with her, and it has been in the family ever since. It had been in the gipsy family of my grandmother time out of mind, and was lent about when any of the men went on dangerous missions. No one who wears it can die a sudden death from violence—that is"—Mehalah qualified the assertion, "on land."
"It does not preserve one on the water then?" said George, with an incredulous laugh.
"I won't say that. It surely did so to-night. It saves from shot and stab."
"Not from drowning?"
"I think not."
"I must get a child's caul, and then I shall be immortal."
"Don't joke, George," said Mehalah gravely. "What I say is true."
"Glory! " said De Witt, "I always thought you looked like a gipsy with your dark skin and large brown eyes, and now from your own lips comes the confession that you are one."
"There is none of the blood in my mother," said she; "she is like an ordinary Christian. I fancy it jumps a generation."
"Well, then, you dear gipsy, here is my hand. Tell my fortune."
"I cannot do that. But I have given you a gipsy charm against evil men and accidents."
"Hark!"
Out of the clear heaven were heard plaintive whistles, loud, high up, inexpressibly weird and sad, "Ewe! ewe! ewe!" They burst shrilly on the ears, then became fainter, then burst forth again, then faded away. It was as though spirits were passing in the heavens wailing about a brother sprite that had flickered into nothingness.
"The curlew are in flight. What is the matter, Mehalah?"
