“There’s one less angel up there now,” added Paul.
“But don’t let me catch you running away again, sis,” said Jack, with mock severity. “We’ll forgive you this time, but once is plenty. I don’t know but what I ought to put a ball and chain on you as it is.”
“You needn’t worry,” answered Cora. “I’m cured. I’ll stick to the rest of you now closer than your shadows.”
“By the way,” remarked Walter, as he passed his plate, “we met an old friend of yours on our way back from the mill this morning.”
“Who was that?” asked Cora with interest.
“Give you three guesses,” teased Paul.
She ventured several names and then gave it up.
“It was that dark-skinned gypsy who interfered the other morning, when you girls were going to have your fortunes told,” said Walter.
Cora was all interest in an instant.
“And did you see the girl?” she asked eagerly.
“She wasn’t along,” replied Paul. “The man was all by his lonesome.”
“A regular brigand he was, too,” commented Walter. “I’d hate to meet him at night in a dark alley.”
“We tried to talk to him,” explained Paul, “but he shut up like a clam. Pretended he couldn’t understand.”
“The rest of the gypsies can’t be far off,” observed Belle.
“Wouldn’t it be fine if they camped somewhere in this neighborhood?” said Bess.
“I wish they would,” replied Cora. “I’m crazy to have another talk with that gypsy girl.”
“I’m afraid Joel doesn’t share your sentiments,” laughed Walter. “To speak of gypsy to him is like waving a red rag at a bull.”
“They’re not very likely to settle down here,” declared Jack. “They usually pitch their tents somewhere in the vicinity of a town, so that they can have plenty of visitors. The nearest place to this spot they’d be likely to fix on is Wilton. That’s quite a good-sized town, and there’s a big summer hotel there. But that’s as much as four miles away.”
“What’s distance to us as long as we have the cars?” said Cora. “For that matter, it wouldn’t be too far to walk. I wish you boys would keep your eyes and ears open and let us know if you find out anything about them.”
They promised readily, but several days passed without any scrap of news from the wandering tribe.
One other bit of news, however, gave them unqualified pleasure. They learned from a paper that Jack secured on a trip to a neighboring town that Miss Moore had safely landed at Governor’s Island and had broken all records for a cross-country flight.
“Oh, I’m so glad!” exclaimed Cora, clapping her hands. “I’ve been worrying ever since that morning for fear I’d caused her to lose, and I know how much her mind was set on winning.”
And forthwith she dispatched a telegram, care of the Aero Club, that read:
“Your grateful passenger sends warmest love and congratulations.”
And it may well be guessed that few of the messages that overwhelmed Miss Moore on the completion of her wonderful feat brought her more real satisfaction than this.
“I’m pining away for a trip on the lake,” announced Belle, one beautiful morning a few days later.
“Let’s picnic up at the farther end of the lake,” said Cora. “I noticed the loveliest spot for an outing the last time we were up there.”
“Your wish is our command,” said Jack with exaggerated courtesy. “I’d have suggested it before, if I hadn’t thought you girls might feel a wee bit nervous about the Water Sprite after the narrow escape we had last time. But we’ve spent a good deal of time in fixing her up since then, and now she’s perfectly safe.”
“We’re not a bit afraid,” was the unanimous verdict of the girls.
“And let’s get a few fish on the way,” said Walter. “There’s nothing that tastes better than a fish fry under the trees. And I know a way of broiling them on oak twigs that will make you think you’re eating ambrosia. I’ll be chef and Jack and Paul can clean the fish.”
“Such a chance!” exclaimed Paul. “You’ll do your share of the cleaning, and don’t you forget it!”
“You’d better catch the fish before you fall to scrapping over them,” remarked Cora.
“You boys go ahead and get your bait,” commanded Belle, “while we get on our boating suits.”
“We fellows seem to be unanimously elected to do all the work,” remarked Jack. “I suppose you girls will want us to put the worms on the hooks for you, too.”
“Likely enough,” admitted Bess.
“Worms, little boys?” sniffed Belle.
“Bent pins, too, for hooks,” suggested Cora.
“Worms make a perfectly satisfactory bait, and don’t you forget it!” declared Walter.
“Bet the fish swallow those worms so greedily our arms will ache pulling them in so fast,” added Jack.
While the boys prepared the fishing tackle and dug the bait, Aunt Betty saw to it that an ample lunch was prepared, and by the time the girls came down, dressed for the trip, everything was in readiness.
They made their way down to the shore of the lake, and a cry of surprise and delight broke from the lips of the girls when they caught sight of the motor boat.
For it was a new, a rejuvenated, Water Sprite that met their eyes. She had been dowdy and disreputable when she had taken them out on the first trip. But the boys had made several surreptitious trips to the nearest town, and had come back laden with sundry cans of paint and varnish.
They had worked like troopers, painting the boat from stem to stern, varnishing the deck and the interior of the cabin, and cleaning every bit of the brass work until it shone like gold.
The Water Sprite was a perfect picture now, as she floated gracefully at the end of the little pier, her ivory white coat of paint contrasting beautifully with the rich brown of the deck tints and her name showing in gold letters on her stern.
“Isn’t she a darling?” exclaimed Bess ecstatically.
“She’s a dream!” asseverated Belle.
“So that’s what you boys have been up to on these mysterious trips of yours, is it?” asked Cora, shaking her finger at them.
“Caught with the goods,” grinned Jack.
“Guilty, with extenuating circumstances,” admitted Walter.
“We throw ourselves on the mercy of the court,” laughed Paul.
“You see,” explained Jack, “it didn’t seem the right thing to us that such pretty girls should sail in such a shabby boat.”
“Well, all I have to say is that you boys are perfect darlings to go to all this trouble for us,” declared Bess emphatically.
“It looks like
“‘An ivory shallop, silken-sailed,’”
quoted Belle.
“Except that there are no sails,” laughed Cora. “But the ivory part is all right. Really, girls, it looks almost too pretty to use. Talk about Cleopatra’s barge!”
“There was only one queen on that, while we have three,” grinned Walter. “But come along, girls. I want you to catch those fish, so I can show you what a peach of a cook I am.”
The girls went on board in high glee, Paul cast off the moorings, Jack started the engine to chugging, and Walter this time took charge of the wheel.
The Water Sprite darted off proudly, as though conscious she was looking her best. The boys had not been content with mere decoration, but had made a thorough job of fixing the hull as well, and this time there was no danger of wet feet.
They went down the lake some distance, and then Jack stopped the engine, and the Water Sprite floated about lazily, while they baited the hooks and threw out the lines.
“I’ve got a bite,” said Jack suddenly.
“Does it hurt?” asked Walter solicitously.
Bess giggled, and the others joined in when Jack hauled up a lot of dripping weeds.
“Old Izaak Walton had nothing on you as a fisherman,” chaffed Paul.
But the laugh was on him a moment later, when a voracious pickerel made off with his hook and sinker, and he ruefully pulled up his broken line.
Cora was the first to score, landing a big flopping perch to an accompaniment of little squeals from Bess and Belle.
From that time on the luck was good, and before long they had a number of perch and pickerel, together with enough bass to supply all they needed for an abundant dinner.
“I guess we’re pretty well fixed now,” said Jack, as he eyed the pile of fish. “What do you say now to hustling along and giving Walter a chance to make good on that frying proposition? I think he’s bragging, if you ask me.”
“You do, eh?” retorted Walter. “If you clean the fish as well as I cook them there’ll be nothing left to ask for.”
They started up the boat again, and before long were near the end of the lake. They went along slowly, trying to find the special place that Cora had referred to.
“There it is!” she exclaimed at length. “See! Right in that little cove.”
She pointed to a little indentation in the shore where the trees had thinned out so as to leave an open space carpeted with velvety, springing turf. Near by, a tiny promontory extended into the water, and here it was deep enough for the Water Sprite to float without touching bottom.
“What a lovely spot!” exclaimed Belle.
“A little bit of Eden,” seconded her sister.
“And a dandy place to land,” commented Jack. “We can fasten a rope to that tree and step ashore without having to wade.”
The boys helped the girls ashore, and followed them, bringing along their catch.
While the girls emptied the contents of the lunch basket and spread the good things about in a shady spot, Walter gathered some wood, dug a hole in the ground and lighted a roaring fire. As the flames died down he carefully raked the embers into the hole, until he had a small furnace that gave forth an intense heat.
Then he prepared a skillet of oak twigs dexterously twisted together, and was ready. Jack and Paul in the meantime had been cleaning the fish.
“Hurry up, you common laborers,” ordered Walter in a lordly tone. “Don’t keep an artist waiting.”
A fish-head whizzed past his ear and he hastily sought refuge behind a tree.
“Bad shooting,” he taunted.
“Good enough to make you duck,” retorted Jack.
“While these rough-necks are disturbing the peace,” drawled Walter, “it might be a good idea to get some of those blackberries up there. They’ll come in handy for dessert.”
He pointed to a group of bushes about a hundred feet distant.
“I’ll go,” volunteered Belle, rising to her feet. “You girls go on getting things ready. This lunch basket is empty now and I’ll take it along for the berries.”
She started to pick busily, while Walter, taking the fish that had been cleaned, began to broil them over the fire.
A delicious, tantalizing savor rose from the oak skillets, and promised to justify all that Walter had claimed for his cooking.
“Hurry up, Belle!” called Cora. “Walter’s nearly finished now, and we’re all ravenous.”
“I’ll be with you in a minute,” sang out Belle, “but there’s one big bush here that’s just dying to be picked.”
She moved toward it, but stopped in fright as she heard a grunt and snort on the other side of the bush.
The next instant she found herself looking into the eyes of a big black bear!
For a moment Belle stood paralyzed with fright.
The bear gazed at her unwinkingly, and his hair began to rise slowly on his head as he gave vent to a savage growl.
Then Belle screamed wildly, dropped her basket, which was half full of berries, and ran towards the other members of the party, who had risen and rushed to meet her.
“What is it?” they cried in chorus.
“A bear!” shrieked Belle, pointing to the thicket. “Oh, run, run!”
And at this moment the bear emphasized the wisdom of this advice by shambling into full sight.
The boys each possessed themselves of the arm of one of the girls and hurried them to the boat. They put them aboard, rapidly untied the rope that held the Water Sprite, and themselves jumped in.
Then with a united push they sent the Water Sprite away from the bank, Jack started the engine going faster than he ever had before, and in a moment more they were fifty feet out on the lake.
Then only did they dare to draw breath.
It was perhaps lucky for them that Belle had dropped her basket right in the path of the bear. The piles of luscious fruit that had rolled out proved a temptation too strong to resist. He nuzzled into them luxuriously, and when he raised his head his nose looked as though it were dripping with paint.
They had a good view of him now, and they shuddered as they saw what a large and shaggy specimen he was. The bear looked at them too and snarled as if with disappointment at their escape.
“Beauty, isn’t he?” demanded Paul.
“Looks like a nightmare to me,” observed Walter.
“How lucky that Belle saw him first and gave warning,” said Cora. “It would have been nice, wouldn’t it, to have been sitting at lunch and have looked up to see him standing beside us?”
“I know what it means now to have your tongue cleave to the roof of your mouth,” said Belle, who was pale and shaken. “I thought I never would be able to scream.”
The bear resumed his shambling gait and meandered leisurely down to the pile of fish.
“The robber!” groaned Walter. “He’ll clean up the pile. To think I’ve been cooking for that old reprobate!”
“You ought to take it as a compliment,” said Jack. “Just see how the old thief is wading into them.”
The fish were indeed disappearing with magical rapidity.
“He’s a magician,” said Jack. “He’s making mutton of fish.”
“It’s well enough to joke,” murmured Bess. “But what will we do if he eats all the rest of our lunch?”
“We’ll have to grin and bear it,” said Paul, whose disposition to pun could not be overcome.
“Perhaps he’ll be satisfied with the fish and leave the rest of the food alone,” remarked Cora hopefully.
“You’re a cheerful optimist,” replied her brother. “You don’t know much about a bear’s appetite. Besides, he must be awfully hungry, otherwise he would run away—bears usually do.”
“Oh, if I only had a rifle here!” said Paul.
“A dynamite bomb would be good enough for me,” growled Walter.
“Haven’t we anything on board we can soak him with?” groaned Jack.
“Nothing much, except some loose bolts and nuts in the locker,” answered Cora, “and they wouldn’t do any good, except perhaps to aggravate him.”
“It might get his mind off the rest of the lunch, anyway,” replied her brother. “Let’s get a handful, fellows, and bombard the old brigand.”
They were all smarting for revenge, and they equipped themselves with the missiles and began to throw. Several of them hit the bear, but he paid no attention.
“We’re too far off,” said Walter. “The force of the bolts is spent before they get to him. Back up a little closer to the shore, Jack, and we’ll have a better chance.”
“Do you think we’d better?” asked Belle. “He might get stirred up and come after us. Bears are good swimmers, you know.”
“He couldn’t catch a motor boat in a thousand years,” replied Jack. “If it were a rowboat now, it might be different.”
He backed up until the boat was within ten feet of the shore. Walter threw a bolt with such accurate aim that it caught the bear right on the end of his nose.
He reared up with an ugly roar, and his little eyes shot flames of fire at his adversaries.
He offered a fair mark as he stood erect, and Jack had an inspiration. Hanging over the side of the Water Sprite was one of the life-preservers, the round type, a circle with a very large opening in the center, so that it could be easily slipped over the head.
Jack snatched it up and threw it with the motion of a quoit-thrower. It covered the short intervening distance and went over the bear’s head, settling on his neck and looking for all the world like a gigantic ruff. It gave the animal a most grotesque appearance, and the spectators roared with laughter.
It was easier for it to go on than it was for the bear to get it off, and his antics were comical as he rubbed his head against the trees and, failing in that, took his paws to it. He succeeded at last, but his naturally surly nature had not been improved by the operation, and the instant the life-preserver was dislodged, he rushed to the edge of the shore and plunged into the water.
The action was so sudden that the party was taken by surprise. The girls screamed, and the boys had to do some quick work to get the Water Sprite under way. They succeeded, however, and once the engine was going, it was an easy matter to keep out of the bear’s reach, although for so clumsy a creature he swam with amazing swiftness.
They could have distanced him without trouble, but with deliberate purpose Jack kept just far enough ahead of him to encourage him in thinking that he might overtake his quarry. In this way, he drew him down along the shore of the lake for more than half a mile. By that time, Bruin’s ardor had cooled and his strength began to fail. He gave a wrathful snort and made for the shore.
The instant he did so, Jack turned the boat about and made all speed back to the place where they had been surprised.
“Now’s our chance, fellows,” he said. “We can get there long before the bear does, even if he makes a bee line for it as soon as he gets to shore. I’ll hold her bow against the bank, while you jump out and gather up the provisions and bring them on board. That thief may have got our fish, but he won’t have the laugh on us altogether.”
It was very quick work that Paul and Walter did, for they had no mind to be caught there when the bear should make his way back, as they had no doubt he would. They regained the life preserver, which was so scratched and torn that it was no longer good for its original purpose, but they wanted it as a memento of the adventure.
As the bear had not had time to meddle with the food laid out by the girls, they were not so badly off after all, although it was exasperating to have to go without the fish, whose appetizing aroma was still in the air.
“Just when they were done to a turn, too,” said Walter gloomily. “I wish the old rascal had choked on the bones.”
Having recovered everything else, even to Aunt Betty’s lunch basket, the picnic party pushed out some distance, and ate their lunch with an appetite that was the keener for their enforced waiting.
They were sure that Bruin’s instinct would lead him straight back to the succulent repast that had been so rudely interrupted, and they were right, for a few minutes later he came loping along and plunged into the remnants of his fish dinner. He glared out over the water at his enemies, but his one experience had been sufficient, and he made no further attempt to take after them. He sniffed around disappointedly at the place where the other eatables had stood, and then lumbered away into the woods.
“There’s gratitude for you,” observed Jack. “We’ve given that bear a perfectly good dinner—even cooked it for him—and the only thanks we get is an attempt to kill us.”
“Oh, well,” said Paul, “we must forgive the old fellow. Bear and forbear, you know.”
“You wouldn’t think it was so funny,” remarked Cora, “if he’d gotten away with the rest of the lunch, as well as the fish.”
“Even then we needn’t have gone hungry,” returned Paul soberly. “The forest preserves are all around us.”
“Even in the cities, one needn’t starve if he has a sweet tooth,” added Walter. “He always has the subway jams.”
“I declare,” said Cora, “it’s a pity the bear didn’t get you boys after all.”
“We may get him yet,” said Walter. “I’m not willing to let those fish of mine go unavenged. Perhaps we can get some guns from Joel and round this old fellow up. It certainly would do me a lot of good to have his skin for a rug.”
“He may have his own ideas about that,” replied Bess. “You’d better let well enough alone.”
“I see we’re not the only ones on the lake,” remarked Cora, pointing to a small boat about a mile away.
“Some fellow out fishing in a rowboat,” pronounced Jack, after a moment’s examination. “Let’s go down that way and see what luck he’s having.”
“He doesn’t seem to be fishing,” observed Belle, as the Water Sprite turned in the direction of the rowboat. “In fact, he seems trying to attract our attention. There, he’s waving at us. Let’s hurry. Perhaps he’s in trouble.”
Jack sent the Water Sprite flying at full speed, and the distance between the boats rapidly narrowed.
“Upon my word!” cried Belle, “I believe it’s Mr. Morley.”
“So it is,” acquiesced Cora.
“I don’t see any oars in his boat,” said Paul.
“Looks as though he were adrift,” remarked Walter.
When he was within a few yards, Jack shut off the engine, and the Water Sprite drifted lazily down alongside the rowboat.
It was indeed the botanist, and he smiled cordially, if a little sheepishly, as they shouted greetings to him.
“I’m mighty glad to see you young people,” he returned. “I rather thought it was your boat, but she looks so gay in her new coat that I wasn’t sure of it.”
“Where are your oars?” asked Jack.
“Thereby hangs a tale,” smiled Mr. Morley.
“Come aboard and tell us all about it,” replied Cora. “We’ll fasten your boat to the stern and pull it along.”
Mr. Morley climbed on board, helped by willing hands, and Walter secured the rowboat by a rope round a cleat in the stern.
“It’s a simple story,” laughed Mr. Morley. “Indeed, simple is the only word that properly expresses it. The fact is that I rowed over to the other side of the lake to find some specimens that I had reason to think were growing there. I got them all right and rowed back to the island. I put the oars out of the boat on the dock, and was going to get out myself, when something peculiar about one of the specimens attracted my attention, and I sat down in the boat to examine it more closely. I got so engrossed in it that I forgot everything else. Then suddenly I woke up to the fact that the boat had drifted away from the dock, and I was in the middle of the lake without oars. I was trying to paddle with my hands, but wasn’t accomplishing much, when your boat came in sight. I’m always glad to see you young folks, but I don’t mind admitting that I’m especially glad to see you to-day.”
“And we are to see you,” returned Cora warmly. “How lucky it was that we made up our mind to spend to-day on the lake.”
“We’ll take you right over to your island,” said Jack.
“It’s awfully good of you,” returned Mr. Morley. “I hope it won’t interfere with any other plans you may have made.”
“Not a bit,” answered Cora. “As a matter of fact, I was going to ask Jack to stop at the island before we went home to-night. I wanted to scold you for not having come over to see us at Kill Kare, as you promised.”
“I ought to be scolded,” admitted Mr. Morley. “It hasn’t been, however, because I didn’t want to come. But I’ve had a very painful and difficult problem that I’ve felt I must solve and that has taken up all my time. But I shall certainly give myself the pleasure of calling before long.
“But you have had some very stirring adventures of your own since I saw you last, I understand,” he continued. “What’s this I hear about your being lost in the woods and rescued by an aeroplane, Miss Kimball?”
“It’s true enough,” smiled Cora, and she gave him some of the details. “But how did you come to hear anything about it?” she asked curiously.
“I was talking with Mr. Baxter recently and he told me about it,” replied Mr. Morley.
“Mr. Baxter!” exclaimed Cora in surprise. “We know him very well and he was very kind and helpful while the search was going on. But I didn’t know that you were acquainted with him.”
“He’s doing some special work for me,” Mr. Morley explained, “and we often have occasion to consult together. He’s a very clever man in his particular line.”
Cora would have given the world to ask just then what Mr. Baxter’s line of work was, but she felt that she might be prying. She waited expectantly, hoping that the botanist would mention it of his own accord, but he did not, and they were soon talking of other things.
Of course they told him of their adventure with the bear, and he laughed heartily at the way the brute had made away with their fish dinner.
“If he didn’t leave you enough,” he said heartily, “I’d be very glad to have you come up to the cabin with me and let me knock you up a meal.”
“Oh, we had plenty without the fish,” laughed Cora. “But thank you just the same. And by the way, we’re going to have an outdoor spread on the lawn at Kill Kare before long, in recognition of the kindness of those who tried to bring the prodigal daughter out of the wilderness. I expect that your friend Mr. Baxter will be there, and I’d dearly love to have you come, too.”
“When you’ve fixed on the exact date, let me know, and I certainly will,” replied Mr. Morley. “But here we are now, and there are the oars lying on the dock as a proof of my foolishness,” he added with a laugh.
“You’ve put me under a great obligation,” he said in parting. “I might have drifted along the greater part of the day, and perhaps the night, before I touched shore somewhere.”
“One good turn deserves another,” returned Jack, “and we haven’t forgotten how royally you helped us on the day the Water Sprite got into trouble.”
They waved to him as the boat drew away and shaped its course for Kill Kare.
“It’s mighty lucky we came along, just the same,” observed Belle. “Suppose, by any chance, he had drifted ashore and found our friend the bear waiting for him.”
“And he without any oars in his boat,” added Bess, with a little shudder.
Cora sat in a brown study as the boat hummed its way to the home landing.
“A penny for your thoughts, fair lady,” said Walter, as he lounged lazily on the cushions.
“Why,” said Cora, “I was wondering what were the special business relations between Mr. Morley and Mr. Baxter.”
“Hard to tell,” replied Walter lightly. “Perhaps Mr. Baxter is an author or an illustrator, and they’re getting up a book together on botany, or something of the kind.”
“I hardly think it’s that,” put in Jack. “I told you before that I thought he was a detective, and something that he said when Cora was lost makes me believe it all the more. He said that he knew the authorities in some of the towns, and they’d be glad to oblige him. That sounds to me more like a detective than an author talking.”
“It does for a fact,” agreed Paul. “But what do you suppose a detective and Mr. Morley have in common?”
“Mr. Morley said that Mr. Baxter was doing some special work for him and that he was very clever,” said Cora.
“Mr. Morley may have been robbed, and he may be trying to trace the robbers,” suggested Belle.
“If it were only that, there wouldn’t be much romance or interest about it,” mused Cora. “But I have an idea it’s something more intimate and personal than that.”
“It seems to me that a robbery is a pretty personal and intimate thing,” laughed Walter.
“Cora means that there’s a heart interest somewhere in Mr. Morley’s life,” put in Bess, “but of course you boys are too sordid to understand anything like that.”
As they passed the barn on their way to the bungalow they met Joel, who had just put up his horse. He seemed a bit out of sorts, and as this was unusual for him, it attracted their attention.
“What’s the matter, Joel?” asked Jack.
“Nuthin’ much,” answered Joel. “But I jest heerd thet them pesky gypsies hez pitched their camp over near Wilton, an’ it’s kinda rubbed my fur the wrong way. I won’t hev an easy minute till I know they’ve packed up their kits an’ hit the trail again.”
“The gypsies!” exclaimed Cora. “I wonder if it is the same camp we saw before.”
“I suppose that’s likely,” returned Jack. “There isn’t usually more than one camp in the same part of the country. They spread out pretty thin and keep apart. Besides, this fits in with the old pirate we saw the other day. He was prospecting, all right, and he picked out the vicinity of Wilton because he saw good graft in the town and the big hotel.”
“Are you sure the news is straight?” asked Paul. “How did you hear about it?”
“Thet Baxter feller wuz drivin’ by, an’ he told me,” replied Joel. “Wuss news I’ve heerd in a dog’s age.”
But if the news disgruntled Joel, it gave immense satisfaction to the rest of the party, especially the girls. They restrained their jubilation, however, until they got beyond Joel’s hearing.
“Isn’t it darling!” exclaimed Cora. “Now we’ll have a chance to see that gypsy girl again!”
“All the good it will do you,” jeered Walter. “That old horse thief will be on the job again, and keep her from talking with you. For some reason he seems to have it in for us.”
“Let’s drive over to-morrow,” suggested Bess.
“I’d like nothing better,” agreed her sister.
“Let’s give Joel a pleasure and take him along,” put in Walter with a wicked grin.
“It would make him froth at the mouth just to look at them,” laughed Jack. “I guess in the interest of the public peace we’d better keep Joel as far away from them as possible.”
“I’m just going to make that girl talk!” declared Cora emphatically.
“Not a very hard thing as a rule,” chaffed Walter. “The difficulty is usually to keep the girls from talking. But these gypsies are a canny lot. For some reason or other they’re suspicious of us, and they’ll keep their eyes on us as long as we’re in camp.”
“Let’s go in disguise,” laughed Paul. “I’ll make up as a clown.”
“That wouldn’t be any disguise,” jabbed Bess.
“That ought to hold you for a while, old man,” laughed Jack. “But let’s go in to supper. I’m ravenous. We’ll have plenty of time to think of the gypsies later on.”
The next day was bright and clear, and shortly after lunch the cars were brought out and the party of young people started for Wilton.
There was a fairly good road most of the way, but there were patches that led through the woods that were rather rough, and over these the cars had to move more slowly.
“Suppose that bear of ours should turn up now,” suggested Walter, as they passed through an especially dense portion of the forest.
“Don’t speak of it,” shivered Bess, looking fearfully on either side. “What on earth would we do?”
“Run for it, I guess,” replied Paul laconically. “He’d have to be pretty fast to overtake us.”
“But suppose he jumped out in front of us,” said Belle.
“Then we’d have to put on full speed ahead and bump him,” laughed Jack. “He’d be as surprised as the bull that tried to throw the locomotive off the track.”
“And about as badly mussed up, I imagine,” added Walter.
But at the same time he reflected that it might have been just as well to have brought Joel’s rifle along, and in his secret heart he was relieved when the cars got out again on the open road.
They slowed up a little as they drew near Wilton, and scanned narrowly both sides of the road.
“There it is!” exclaimed Bess eagerly, pointing to a large opening in the woods a little to the right.
“So it is,” acquiesced Belle. “I can see the vans through the trees.”
“And we’re not the only visitors, either,” remarked Jack, as they caught sight of a number of well dressed people walking about the camp.
“So much the better,” replied Cora. “We won’t be so conspicuous, and the gypsies will be so busy with the crowd that they’ll take no special notice of us.”
They left their cars under the shade of some trees and mingled with the throng.
“I give them credit for having picked out a good place,” remarked Jack.
“They seem to be doing a land-office business,” observed Walter.
“I don’t see that old fellow around that has such a grudge against us,” said Paul.
“Probably off somewhere cheating some farmer in a horse trade,” grinned Jack.
They passed a group of rather fast-looking young men, who were talking and laughing loudly, and Bess suddenly plucked Cora by the sleeve.
“Don’t look now,” she murmured, “but after we get behind that clump of trees, take a look at that crowd we’ve just passed. There’s an old acquaintance of yours there.”
Cora did as directed and gave a start of surprise.
“Why,” she exclaimed, “it’s the man who tried to steal my purse!”
Belle followed Cora’s gaze.
“Sure enough,” she ejaculated, “it’s that man Higby!”
“What do you suppose he’s doing here?” wondered Cora.
“I suppose he’s off on his vacation,” hazarded Bess. “Likely enough he’s stopping at one of the boarding houses in Wilton.”
“You girls seem to be hypnotized,” laughed Jack. “We’ll get jealous if you keep looking at those chaps any longer.”
“Do you see that man over there?” asked Cora, indicating Higby.
“The fellow with the rainbow tie?” asked Jack. “Yes, I see him. What of him?”
“That’s the man who tried to scrape acquaintance with us, and nearly got my purse later on.”
“I’d like to pick a quarrel with him and punch his head,” said Jack savagely.
“You won’t do anything of the kind, Jack Kimball,” warned Cora.
“So that’s our hated rival, is it?” asked Paul, looking at the young man with some amusement.
“I’ll have his heart’s blood,” hissed Walter tragically.
“It’s very queer,” mused Cora. “Don’t you remember, girls, how the gypsy girl nearly fainted when Bess happened to mention Higby’s name? And here he is now in the same camp with her.”
“I’d like to be near by when they meet,” remarked Belle.
“Still looking for a mystery,” chaffed Walter. “It beats all how you girls can pounce on trifles and make a mountain out of them.”
“Give them an ounce of fact and they’ll get a ton of romance,” agreed Paul.
“We’re not asking for your approval,” retorted Cora. “This is a case that requires brains and naturally you boys are all at sea.”
“I don’t see that you’ve reached harbor anywhere,” drawled Jack.
“Not yet,” admitted Cora, “but that doesn’t say we won’t. I wonder where that girl can be,” she continued, as she looked searchingly around.
“Perhaps they’ve sent her over to Wilton to tell fortunes there,” suggested Paul. “These gypsies don’t wait for business to come to them. They hunt it up.”
“Oh, I hope not!” exclaimed Cora. “The only reason I cared to come over here was to see her.”
But although they loitered about the place for another hour or two, they saw no trace of the gypsy girl.
They were agreeably surprised, however, to run across Mr. Baxter, with whom their relations had grown cordial since he had exerted himself so strenuously in the search for Cora. But despite the pleasant footing on which they stood, there was still that baffling sense of reticence that enveloped him in everything concerning himself.
“Come over to get your fortune told?” asked Jack with a grin.
“Not exactly,” smiled Mr. Baxter, “though I’m always in the market for exact information.”
“I hope you don’t mean to imply that there’s anything phony about the dope they hand out here,” laughed Walter.
“We saw your friend, Mr. Morley, yesterday,” remarked Cora.
Mr. Baxter shot a sharp look at her.
“Is that so?” he inquired. “How did you happen to know we were acquainted?”
“He told me so himself,” returned Cora promptly.
“Well, that ought to be pretty good authority,” replied Mr. Baxter.