from an oilskin case. He dealt them out, first of all, in a circle
containing two smaller circles; then in a curious sort of five-pointed
star; lastly, in a square with a circle cutting off the
corners. "Queer, queer," he said, grinning, as he swept the cards up
and returned them to his pocket. "You and I will know a power of queer
times together, Jim."

He brightened up after that, as though something had pleased him very
much. He looked very nice when he looked pleased, in spite of his eyes
and in spite of the gipsy darkness of his skin. "Here," he said,
"let's be company. D'ye know any knots, you two?"

No; neither of us knew any knots except the ordinary overhand and
granny knots.

"Well, I'll show you," he said. "It'll come in useful some day. Always
learn what you can, that's what I say, because it'll come in useful.
That's what the Irishman said. Always learn what you can. You never
know; that's the beauty of it."

He searched in his pockets till he found a small hank of spun-yarn,
from which he cut a piece about a yard long. "See here," he said.
"Now, I'll teach you. It's quite easy, if you only pay attention. Now,
how would you tie a knot if you was doing up a parcel?"

We both tried, and both made granny knots, with the ends sticking out
at right angles to the rest of the yarn.

"Wrong," he said. "Those are grannies. They would jam so that you'd
never untie 'em, besides being ugly. There's wrong ways even in doing