The women said
nothing, but I could hear the grandmother growling to herself,
something after the manner of an old grimalkin when disturbed.
"Carracho," reiterated the fellow, "how came this companion here?"
"No le penela chi min chaboro," said the black Callee to me, in an
undertone; "sin un balicho de los chineles {4};" then looking up to
the interrogator she said aloud, "he is one of our people from
Portugal, come on the smuggling lay, and to see his poor sisters
here."
"Then let him give me some tobacco," said the fellow, "I suppose he
has brought some with him."
"He has no tobacco," said the black Callee, "he has nothing but old
iron. This cigar is the only tobacco there is in the house; take
it, smoke it, and go away!"
Thereupon she produced a cigar from out her shoe, which she
presented to the alguazil.
"This will not do," said the fellow, taking the cigar, "I must have
something better; it is now three months since I received anything
from you; the last present was a handkerchief, which was good for
nothing; therefore hand me over something worth taking, or I will
carry you all to the Carcel."
"The Busno will take us to prison," said the black Callee, "ha! ha!
ha!"
"The Chinel will take us to prison," giggled the young girl "he!
he! he!"
"The Bengui will carry us all to the estaripel," grunted the Gypsy
grandmother, "ho!
