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that had ever heard of, known, or cared for me before, but .... God.

I pretended to be arranging my saddle till the Prince was out of sight, and then seeing the sign of a horse with hind legs like the knees of a ship, and other points displaying equal artistic skill, swing ing before a stable close at hand, I led my tired pony there, and asked that he should be cared for.

A negro kept this stable, a Nicaragua negro, with one eye, and an uncommon long beard for one of his race. He had gold enough hung to his watch-chain in charms and specimens to stock a ranch, and finger-rings like a pawn-dealer. He was very black, .short and fat, and insolent to the white boy who tended his horses. I was afraid of this man from the first, instinctively, and without any reason at all.

When you fear a man or woman instinctively, follow your instincts. I shrank from this short, black, one-eyed scoundrel, with his display of gold, in a strange way. When he came up and spoke to me, as I was about to go out, I held my head down under his one eye, as if I had stolen something and dared not look into it.

Permit me to say here that the popular idea that the honest man will look you in the face and the knave will not, is one of the most glaring of popular humbugs that I know. Ten chances to one the knave will look you in the eye till you feel abashed yourself, while the honest, sensitive man or woman