Notwithstanding the probable prospect of passing his night in the forest, our little adventurer did not lose heart.  Cadurcis was an intrepid child, and when in the company of those with whom he was not familiar, and free from those puerile associations to which those who had known and lived with him long were necessarily subject, he would assume a staid and firm demeanour unusual with one of such tender years.  A light in the distance was now not only a signal that the shelter he desired was at hand, but reminded him that it was necessary, by his assured port, to prove that he was not unused to travel alone, and that he was perfectly competent and qualified to be his own master.

As he drew nearer, the lights multiplied, and the moon, which now rose over the forest, showed to him that the trees, retiring on both sides to some little distance, left a circular plot of ground, on which were not only the lights which had at first attracted his attention, but the red flames of a watch-fire, round which some dark figures had hitherto been clustered.  The sound of horses’ feet had disturbed them, and the fire was now more and more visible.  As Cadurcis approached, he observed some low tents, and in a few minutes he was in the centre of an encampment of gipsies.  He was for a moment somewhat dismayed, for he had been brought up with the usual terror of these wild people; nevertheless, he was not unequal to the occasion.  He was surrounded in an instant, but only with women and children; for the gipsy-men never immediately appear.  They smiled with their bright eyes, and the flames of the watch-fire threw a lurid glow over their dark and flashing countenances; they held out their practised hands; they uttered unintelligible, but not unfriendly sounds.  The heart of Cadurcis faltered, but his voice did not betray him.

‘I am cold, good people,’ said the undaunted boy; ’will you let me warm myself by your fire?’

A beautiful girl, with significant gestures, pressed her hand to her heart, then pointed in the direction of the tents, and then rushed away, soon reappearing with a short thin man, inclining to middle age, but of a compact and apparently powerful frame, lithe, supple, and sinewy.  His complexion was dark, but clear; his eye large, liquid, and black; but his other features small, though precisely moulded.  He wore a green jacket and a pair of black velvet breeches, his legs and feet being bare, with the exception of slippers.  Round his head was twisted a red handkerchief, which, perhaps, might not have looked like a turban on a countenance less oriental.

‘What would the young master?’ inquired the gipsy-man, in a voice far from disagreeable, and with a gesture of courtesy; but, at the same time, he shot a scrutinising glance first at Plantagenet, and then at his pony.

‘I would remain with you,’ said Cadurcis; ’that is, if you will let me.’