They all went away to their wagons, save one young man, who was tall with light hair and a fair skin, and who looked like none of the other gypsies.
'Take care of yourself,' he whispered, as soon as the rest had gone.
'These are bad people.

You'd better be off.' The young man left us and Uncle Eb began to pack up at once.

They were going to bed in their wagons when we came away.

I stood in the basket and Fred drew the wagon that had in it only a few bundles.

A mile or more further on we came to a lonely, deserted cabin close to the road.
It had began to thunder in the distance and the wind was blowing damp.
'Guess nobody lives here,' said Uncle Eb as he turned in at the sagging gate and began to cross the little patch of weeds and hollyhocks behind it 'Door's half down, but I guess it'll de better'n no house.