Undera clump of trees, near a brook and an open meadow, and beside a broad country road, was pitched the gypsy camp.
This spot was chosen deliberately and with much care. The trees furnished shade for the tents: the brook furnished water for the horses and for housekeeping purposes, the meadow furnished pasture for the cattle, and the roadway furnished trade for the fortune tellers.
Outside the tents were the wagons, with the queer racks, like fire escapes, running from roof to hub. These racks are used at moving time, to carry such stuff as might interfere with the inside “berths” during a long journey, and at other times the racks do service as “store rooms” for articles not needed in the tents.
In one of the wagons Urania had her sleeping quarters which were shared by a baby half brother on such occasions as he chose to climb into the high berth. But little Tommie was a typicalgypsy, and often preferred to cuddle up at the root of a pine tree rather than to “hump” up in hot pillows in the wagon on summer nights.
So Urania never looked for him—if he were not in bed he must be asleep somewhere, she knew, so in real Nomad philosophy, Tommie never looked for Urania, and Urania never looked for Tommie,—the wisdom of living independently comes very early to members of their class.
Neither do gypsies bother about meal times. They eat when they are hungry—so it was that Dorothy found Urania eating her dinner at two o’clock in the afternoon, when she made the promised call at the camp.
There appeared to be no one about the tent but Urania, and when Dorothy pulled the little camp stool up to the “door” (the opened tent flap) and seated herself there for a chat with the gypsy girl, she felt she had chosen an opportune time for the confidential talk with Urania.
“Get the birds?” asked Urania, while eating.
“No,” replied Dorothy, “and I came over to see if you had heard anything about them.”
“Heard?” sneered the girl, “I thought they were home by this time.”
“Home?” repeated Dorothy, under her breath, for she heard the bushes rustle close by.
Urania helped herself to more sweet potatoes. She was stretched on a piece of carpet in the center of the tent, and there spread on the floor or ground before her was the noon day meal. Ahugewhite cat sat like an old fashioned chimney corner statue, straight up, at her elbow, looking over her shoulder in the queerest way.
From a corner of the tent a very small black dog was tugging at its rope, that just allowed the tiny animal the privilege of drawing in atmospheric gravy—but the rope was too short to reach the dish. And the gypsy girl ate her meal with evident relish in such surroundings!
Flashes of the “Simple Life” idea rose before Dorothy’s mind. Was this what it meant?
Finally the gypsy girl gathered herself up, and without attempting to remove anything from the ground, not even the remaining eatables—although there were numbers of chickens about waiting their turn at the “spread” she came out to where Dorothy sat.
“The old woman’s over there,” she whispered, indicating the back of the tent. “Suppose we walk along, and talk?”
Dorothy left her parcels down in plain view of the gypsy woman, Melea, who, upon seeing them,stepped out from her hiding place and approached the girls.
“I brought you some little things for Tommie,” said Dorothy, “I hope you can make use of them.”
“Thank you very much, miss,” the woman replied, as she gathered up in her apron the bundles Dorothy had left in the camp chair. “Tommie does need things, poor little fellow. And business is awful slow.”
Urania had slipped out to the road side now, and while the woman was “feasting” on the new things the two girls made their way toward a quiet path through the woods.
“And the birds are not home yet?” asked Urania, as the barking of the little dog in the tent became almost beyond hearing.
“No,” answered Dorothy with a question in her voice.
“Well, I saw them leave the swamp, and I thought they would fly straight home,” declared the gypsy girl.
“Leave the swamp?”
“Hush! Not so loud. Sometimes bushes have ears,” cautioned Urania. “The birds were tied in the swamp, and—some one cut the cords,” she hissed.
“I brought you some little things for Tommie,” saidDorothy.Page24
“I brought you some little things for Tommie,” saidDorothy.Page24
No need to tell Dorothy who the “some one” was. She glanced gratefully at the girl walking beside her.
“I must hurry back,” she declared, “and tell the boys. Some one may trap them.”
Dorothy noticed that Urania stopped often to rub one foot against the other. She also noticed a frown of pain cover the girl’s brown face, and now Urania sat down, pulled a torn stocking below her knee, and attempted to adjust a very dirty rag over her thin limb.
“What is it?” asked Dorothy, seeing in spite of the girl’s evident attempt to conceal it, that the rag was stained with blood.
“Oh, nothin’” replied Urania, carelessly. “I just scratched my knee, that’s all,” and she bound the rag about the member as best she could.
“You have torn your limb in the swamp,” declared Dorothy, as the truth came suddenly to her. “I know that place is full of poison briars—”
“But I don’t poison,” interrupted the girl, getting up to continue her walk. “Besides it ain’t nothin’,” and she trudged along bravely enough.
“You must have the reward if the birds get back home,” Dorothy said, as she reached the turn in the path that led to the open roadway.
“Well, money’s all right,” admitted the girl, “but it wouldn’t do for me to show any just now. You see, there’s a lot of bad gypsies prowlin’ around here. Dad don’t mix in with them, but they’re wise, slick, you know. And if they should get next, see me limp, and find out I had fresh scratches, they’d get on to the swamp game quick. So I’ll have to lay low, and I’ll be much obliged if you will help me out, and tell the same to the young gents.”
Dorothy could not repress a smile at the girl’s queer way of telling things, for the slang seemed as natural to Urania as chirping does to a wood sparrow. Neither did the common expressions sound vulgar, as they slipped from the full red lips, and became the utterances of the wild girl of the camps.
“You can depend on me,” whispered Dorothy, pressing Urania’s hand. “And do be careful to wash those scratches—keep the poison out, you know.”
“Oh, I’m all right,” the other replied. “There comes Tommie, and he’s got on the new togs. My, but he does look swell!”
Plunging through the bushes came the little gypsy boy, in the “new togs,” the pretty darkblue sailor suit that Dorothy had bought for him while in the city a few days before.
“He does look nice,” agreed Dorothy, when the boy stood before her, waiting for compliments. “And they fit you so nicely,” she continued, taking a critical look at the blue sailor suit. “But I must hurry off now. Be a good boy, Tommie, and don’t tear your new clothes in the bushes,” she cautioned.
“I won’t,” declared the little fellow. “I’m goin’ to town next time dad goes, and I want to save ’em.”
“That’s right. Good-bye, Urania, look after the scratches,” said Dorothy, aside, “and if you want any of the reward money, just come over and tell me. I’ll see that you get it without the others knowing.”
“Much obliged,” stammered Urania. “Come along, Tommie, if you want a ‘piggy-back,’” and she stooped to the ground to allow the boy to climb on her back. “Now, don’t kick—there. Hold fast!” and at this the gypsies started down one path, while Dorothy hurried along another, for it was growing dusk, and the prospect of meeting the “bad gypsies,” the chicken thieves, that Urania said might be prowling about, was not apleasant thought to Dorothy. Fortunatelytheroad was not far away, and when finally she did reach it, without encountering any “dark figures,” she breathed a sigh of relief, and then made her way quickly to the Cedars.