Some were of vivid green, others of the brightest orange, others as black as pitch.

The gypsy's finger was pointed to a particular part of the sky.
'What do you see there, brother ?' 'A strange kind of cloud.' 'What does it look like, brother ?' 'Something like a stream of blood.' 'That cloud foreshoweth a bloody dukkeripen.' 'A bloody fortune!' said I.'And whom may it betide ?' 'Who knows ?' said the gypsy.
Down the way, dashing and splashing, and scattering man, horse, and cart to the left and right, came an open barouche, drawn by four smoking steeds, with postillions in scarlet jackets and leather skull-caps.

Two forms were conspicuous in it--that of the successful bruiser, and of his friend and backer, the sporting gentleman of my acquaintance.
'His!' said the gypsy, pointing to the latter, whose stern features wore a smile of triumph, as, probably recognising me in the crowd, he nodded in the direction of where I stood, as the barouche hurried by.
There went the barouche, dashing through the rain-gushes, and in it one whose boast it was that he was equal to 'either fortune.' Many have heard of that man--many may be desirous of knowing yet more of him.

I have nothing to do with that man's after life--he fulfilled his dukkeripen.

'A bad, violent man!' Softly, friend; when thou wouldst speak harshly of the dead, remember that thou hast not yet fulfilled thy own dukkeripen! There is yet another reference by Borrow to Thurtell in _The Gypsies of Spain_, which runs as follows: When a boy of fourteen I was present at a prize-fight; why should I hide the truth?
It took place on a green meadow, beside a running stream, close by the old church of E----, and within a league of the ancient town of N----, the capital of one of the eastern counties.