Part 35 (2/2)

”And in those motor-vans they can cover a deal of ground,” suggested Mr. Pinkney.

Agnes broke down at this point and wept. The constable had got out and with the aid of his pocket lamp searched the vicinity. He saw plainly where the vans had turned into the dusty road and the direction they had taken.

”The best we can do is to follow them,” he advised. ”If I can catch them inside the county I'll be able to handle them. And if they go into the next county I'll get help. Well search their vans, no matter where we catch them. All ready?”

The party went on. To catch the moving Gypsies was no easy matter.

Frequently Mr. Stryker got down to look at the tracks. This was at every cross road.

Fortunately the wheels of one of the Gypsy vans had a peculiar tread.

It was easy to see the marks of these wheels in the dust. Therefore, although the pursuit was slow, they managed to be sure they were going right.

From eleven o'clock until three in the morning the motor-car was driven over the circuitous route the nomad procession had taken earlier in the night. Then they came to the new encampment.

Their approach was announced by the barking of the mongrel dogs that guarded the camp. Half the tribe seemed to be awake when the car slowed down and stopped on the roadway. Mr. Stryker got out and shouted for Big Jim.

”Come out here!” said the constable threateningly. ”I know you are here, and I want to talk with you, Jim Costello.”

”Well, whose chicken roost has been raided now?” demanded Big Jim, approaching with his smile and his impudence both in evidence.

”No chicken thievery,” snapped Stryker, flas.h.i.+ng his electric light into the big Gypsy's face. ”Where are those kids?”

”What kids? I got my own--and there's a raft of them. I'll give you a couple if you want.”

Big Jim seemed perfectly calm and the other Gypsies were like him.

They routed out every family in the camp. The constable and Neale searched the tents and the vans. No trace of Tess and Dot was to be found.

”Everything you lay to the poor Gypsy,” said Big Jim complainingly.

”Now it is not chickens--it is kids. Bah!”

He slouched away. Stryker called after him:

”Never mind, Jim. We'll get you yet! You watch your step.”

He came back to the Kenway car shaking his head. ”I guess they have not been here. I'll come back to-morrow when the Gypsies don't expect me and look again if your little sisters do not turn up elsewhere.

What shall we do now?”

Agnes was weeping so that she could not speak. Neale shook his head gloomily. Mr. Pinkney sighed.

”Well,” the latter said, ”we might as well start for home. No good staying here.”

”I'll get you to Milton in much shorter time than it took to get here,” said the constable. ”Keep right ahead, Mr. O'Neil. We'll take the first turn to the right and run on till we come to Hampton Mills.

It's pretty near a straight road from there to Milton. And I can get a ride from the Mills to my place with a fellow I know who pa.s.ses my house every morning.”

Neale started the car and they left the buzzing camp behind them. They had no idea that the moment the sound of the car died away the Gypsies leaped to action, packed their goods and chattels again, and the tribe started swiftly for the State line. Big Jim did not mean to be caught if he could help it by Constable Stryker, who knew his record.

The Corner House car whirred over the rather good roads to Hampton Mills and there the constable parted from them. He promised to report any news he might get of the absent children, and they were to send him word if Tess and Dot were found.

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