Part 8 (1/2)
”That's all right. But Gypsies _do_ carry off people----”
”And eat them?” scoffed Tom. ”How silly, Nell!”
”Well, Mr. Smartie! they might hold us for ransom.”
”Like regular brigands, eh?” returned Tom, lightly. ”That _would_ be an adventure worth chronicling.”
”You can laugh----Oh!”
As she was speaking, Helen saw a head thrust out of the bushes not far along the road they traveled.
”What's the matter?” demanded Ruth, seizing her arm.
”Look there!” But the car was past the spot in a moment. ”Somebody was watching us, and dodged back,” declared Helen, anxiously.
”Oh, nonsense!” laughed her brother.
But before they took the next turn they looked back and saw two men standing in the road, talking. They were rough-looking fellows.
”Gypsies!” cried Helen.
However, they saw n.o.body else for a few miles. Now they were skirting one of the lakes in the upper chain, some miles above the gorge where the dam was built, and the scenery was both beautiful and rugged. There were few farms.
On a rising stretch of road, the engine began to miss, and something rattled painfully in the ”internal arrangements” of the car. Tom looked serious, stopped several times, and just coaxed her slowly to the summit of the hill.
”Now don't tell us that we're going to have a breakdown!” cried Helen.
”Do you think those are thunder-heads hanging over the mountain?” asked Ruth, seriously.
”Sure of it!” responded Helen.
”You are a regular 'calamity howler'!” exclaimed Tom. ”By Jove! this old mill _is_ going to kick up rusty.”
”There's a house!” cried Ruth, gaily, standing up in the back to look ahead. ”Now we're all right if the machine has to be repaired, or a storm bursts upon us.”
But when the car limped up and stopped in the sandy road before the sagging gate, the trio saw that their refuge was a windowless and abandoned structure that looked as gaunt and ghostly as a lightning-riven tree!
CHAPTER VII
FELLOW TRAVELERS
”Well! this is a pretty pickle!” groaned Tom, at last as much disturbed as Helen had been. ”It's no use, girls. We'll have to stop here till the storm is over. It is coming.”
”Well, that will be fun!” cried Ruth, cheerfully. ”Of course we ought to be storm-bound in a deserted house. That is according to all romantic precedent.”
”Humph! you and your precedent!” grumbled her chum. ”I'd rather it was a nice roadside hotel, or tearoom. That would be something like.”
”Come on! we'll take in the hamper, and make tea on the deserted hearthstone,” said Ruth. ”Tom can stay out here and repair his old auto.”