whinny nervously . They pawed at the ground , kicking up dust , nostrils flaring . At the same moment , the gypsies became aware of the gnarled and wrinkled old woman who walked toward them on the path .
“ Good evening , good evening , fellow travelers ,” she cackled as she walked , leaning heavily on a cane fashioned from an old twisted tree root . “ Might you have room at your fire for one more traveler ?”
“ Of course ,” said Ari ’ s grandfather , as was expected in those days , “ you honor my family by sharing our camp .” The women returned to their work , hurrying about , completing preparations for supper . The old woman , meanwhile , joined the men folk around the fire , pulling out an old hand-carved pipe and filling it with tobacco . As she lit her smoke from a twig drawn from the fire , she asked them where they had been and where their plans would take them .
“ We ’ ll skirt the coast for the summer months ,” Ari ’ s grandfather began , “ and probably winter at the palace in Versailles . We ’ re one of His Majesty ’ s favorite troupes .” Later , when the meal had been finished and cleared away , the children were bathed and hustled off to bed as the other adults walked off to their own wagons and bedrolls . Because of the fairness of the evening , everyone ’ s bedrolls were spread on the fluffy grasses beneath the wagons . Ari always slept at the rear of the family wagon when they were outside so that he could look up at the night sky as he fell asleep . The last thing he saw before he drifted off was his father and one of his uncles sitting by the fire , talking quietly with the old woman .
Men crept silently to the edge of the bushes , just outside the circle of light cast by the waning fire and watched for the signal . The old woman waited until all was quiet in the camp . From a couple of the wagons came the sound of gentle snoring . Her fireside companions were drowsy and inattentive . As if yawning
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