Part 33 (1/2)

The party arrived home to find the Corner House lit up as though for a reception. But it was not in honor of their arrival. The telegram announcing Ruth's coming had scarcely been noticed by Mrs. McCall.

Mrs. McCall had recovered a measure of her composure and good sense; but she could scarcely welcome the guests properly. Aunt Sarah Maltby had gone to bed, announcing that she was utterly prostrated and should never get up again unless Tess and Dot were found. Linda and Uncle Rufus were equally distracted.

”But where are Agnes and Neale?” Ruth demanded, very white and determined. ”What are they doing?”

”They started out in the machine around eight o'clock,” explained Mrs.

McCall. ”They are searching high and low for the puir bairns.”

”All alone?” gasped Ruth.

”Mr. Pinkney has gone with them. And I believe they were to pick up a constable. That Neale O'Neil declares he will raid every Gypsy camp and tramp's roost in the county. And Sammy's father took a pistol with him.”

”And you let Agnes go with them!” murmured Ruth. ”Suppose she gets shot?”

”My maircy!” cried the housekeeper, clasping her hands. ”I never thought about that pistol being dangerous, any more than Uncle Rufus's gun with the broken hammer.”

CHAPTER XXIV--THE CAPTIVES

That ride, shut in the Gypsy van, was one that neither Tess nor Dot nor Sammy Pinkney were likely soon to forget. The car plunged along the country road, and the distance the party traveled was considerable, although the direction was circuitous and did not, after two hours, take the Gypsy clan much farther from Milton than they had been at the previous camp.

By eleven o'clock they pulled off the road into a little glade that had been well known to the leaders of the party. A new camp was established in a very short time. Tents were again erected, fires kindled for the late supper, and the life of the Gypsy town was re-begun.

But Sammy and the two little Corner House girls were forbidden to leave the van in which they had been made to ride.

Big Jim came over himself, banged Sammy with his broad palm, and told him:

”You keep-a them here--you see? If those kids get out, I knock you good. See?”

Sammy saw stars at least! He would not answer the man. There was something beside stubbornness to Sammy Pinkney. But stubbornness stood him in good stead just now.

”Don't you mind, Tess and Dot,” he whispered, his own voice broken with half-stifled sobs. ”I'll get you out of it. We'll run away first chance we get.”

”But it never does _you_ any good to run away, Sammy,” complained Tess. ”You only get into trouble. Dot and I don't want to be beaten by that man. He is horrid.”

”I wish we could see those nice ladies who sold us the basket,” wailed Dot, quite desperate now. ”I--I'd be _glad_ to give 'em back the bracelet.”

”s.h.!.+” hissed Sammy. ”We'll run away and we'll take the bracelet along.

These Gyps sha'n't ever get it again, so there!”

”Humph! I don't see what you have to say about _that_, Sammy,” scoffed Tess. ”If the women own it, of course they have got to have it. But I don't want that Big Jim to have it--not at all!”

”He won't get it. You leave it to me,” said Sammy, with recovered a.s.surance.

The van door was neither locked nor barred. But if the children had stepped out of it the firelight would have revealed their figures instantly to the Gypsies.

Either the women bending over the pots and pans at the fires or the children running about the encampment would have raised a hue and cry if the little captives had attempted to run away. And there were a dozen burly men sitting about, smoking and talking and awaiting the call to supper.

This meal was finally prepared. The fumes from the pots reached the nostrils of Tess, Dot, and Sammy, and they were all ravenously hungry.