CHAPTER VIIIWHAT WAS IT ALL ABOUT?
The two men were mumbling together—Ruth could not catch the words at first. When she did, they meant nothing to her, and she was puzzled.
But suddenly one said in clear, if peculiar, English:
"The old hag bags the best of the loot—always, my Carlo."
The other replied, still gruffly, yet in a musical language that Ruth could not identify; yet somehow she was reminded of Roberto. He, the Gypsy lad, had formed his English sentences much as this ruffian had formed his phrase. Were these two of Roberto's tribesmen?
"I like it not—I like it not!" the other burst out again, in anger. "Why should she govern? It is an iron rod in a trembling hand."
"Psst!" snapped the other. "You respect neither age nor wisdom." He now spoke in English, but later he relapsed into the Tzigane tongue. Helen crept down to Ruth's side and listened, too; but it was little the girls understood.
The angry ruffian—the complaining one—dropped more words in English now and then, like: "We risk all—she nothing." "There were the pearls, my Carlo—ah! beautiful! beautiful! Does she not seize them as her own?" "I put my neck in a noose no longer for any man but myself—surely not for a woman!"
Then it was that the man Carlo burst into a tirade in his native speech, and under cover of his loud talk Ruth motioned her chum to creep back up the stairway, and she followed.
A sudden disquieting thought came to her. The rain was growing less. Suppose Tom should come abruptly into the house? He might get into trouble with these ruffians.
She whispered this thought to Helen, and her friend was panic-stricken again. "We must warn Tom—oh, wemustwarn him somehow!" she gasped.
"Surely we will," declared the girl from the Red Mill. "Now, careful how you step. A creaking board might give us away."
They crept across the upper chamber to the rear of the house. Through another room they went, until they could look out of a broken window upon the sheds. There was Master Tom standing before the shed (the machine was hidden), wiping his hands upon a piece of waste, and looking out upon the falling rain.
He saw the girls almost instantly, and opened his mouth to shout to them, but Ruth clapped her own hand to her lips and motioned with the other for him to be silent. Tom understood.
He looked more than surprised—not a little startled, in fact.
"What will he think?" murmured Helen. "He's so reckless!"
"Leave it to me," declared Ruth, leaning out of the window into the still falling rain.
She caught the boy's eye. He watched her motions. There was built at this end of the house an outside stairway, and although it was in bad repair, she saw that an agile fellow like Tom could mount the steps without any difficulty.
Pointing to this flight, she motioned him to come by that means to their level, still warning him by gesture to make no sound. The boy understood and immediately darted across the intervening space to the house.
Ruth knew there was no dining-room window from which the ruffians downstairs could see him. And they had made no move as far as she had heard.
She left Helen to meet Tom when he came in through the sagging door at the top of the outside flight of stairs, and tiptoed back into that room where they had been frightened by the bat.
It was directly over the dining-room. Thesame chimney was built into each room. This thought gave Ruth's active mind food for further reflection.
The rumble of the men's voices continued from below. Tom and Helen followed her so softly into the room that Ruth did not hear them until they stood beside her. Tom touched her arm and pointed downward:
"Tramps?" he asked.
"Those Gypsies, I believe," whispered Ruth, in return.
Helen was just as scared as she could be, and clung tightly to Tom's hand. "Wish we could scare them away," suggested the boy, with knitted brow.
"Perhaps we can!" uttered Ruth, suddenly eager, and her brown eyes dancing. "Sh! Wait! Let me try."
She went to the paper-stuffed stovepipe hole, out of which the bat had fallen. Helen would have exclaimed aloud, had not Tom seen her lips open and squeezed her hand warningly.
"What is it?" he hissed.
"Don't! don't!" begged Helen. "You'll let those bats all out here——"
"Bats?" queried Tom, in wonder.
"In the chimney," whispered Ruth. "Listen!"
The stir and squeaking of the bats were audible. Enough rain had come in at the top of thebroken chimney to disturb the nocturnal creatures.
"Just the thing!" giggled Tom, seeing what Ruth would do. "Frighten them to pieces!"
The girl of the Red Mill had secured the stick she used before. She pulled aside the "stopper" of newspaper and thrust in the stick. At once the rustling and squeaking increased.
She worked the stick up and down insistently. Scale from the inside of the chimney began to rattle down to the hearth below. The voices ceased. Then the men were heard to scramble up.
The bats were dislodged—perhaps many of them! There was a scuffling and scratching inside the flue.
Below, the men broke out into loud cries. They shouted their alarm in the strange language the girls had heard before. Then their feet stamped over the floor.
Tom ran lightly to the window. He saw a bat wheel out of the window below, and disappear. The rain had almost stopped.
It was evident that many of the creatures were flapping about that deserted dining-room. The two ruffians scrambled to the door, through the entry, and out upon the porch.
The sound of their feet did not hold upon the porch. They leaped down the steps, and Tom beckoned the girls eagerly to join him at the window. The two men were racing down thelane toward the muddy highroad, paying little attention to their steps or to the last of the rainstorm.
"Panic-stricken, sure enough! Smart girl, Ruthie," was Master Tom's comment. "Now tell a fellow all about it."
The girls did so, while Ruth lit the alcohol lamp and made the tea. Tom was ravenous—nothing could spoil that boy's appetite.
"Gyps., sure enough," was his comment. "But what you heard them say wasn't much."
"They'd been robbing somebody—or were going to rob," said Helen, shaking her head. "What frightful men they are!"
"Pooh! they've gone now, and the old machine is fixed. We'll plow on through the mud as soon as you like."
"I shall be glad, when we get to civilization again," said his sister.
"And I'd like very much to understand what those men were talking about," Ruth observed. "Do you suppose Roberto knows about it? Pearls—beautiful pearls, that fellow spoke of."
"I tell you they are thieves!" declared Helen.
"We'll probably never know," Tom said, confidently. "So let's not worry!"
Master Tom did not prove a good prophet on this point, although he had foreseen the breaking down of the automobile before they started fromthe Red Mill. They went back to the car and started from the old house in a much more cheerful mood, neither of the girls supposing that they were likely to run across the Gypsy men again.
"We must hustle to make Uncle Ike's to-night, sure enough," Tom said, as the car rolled out into the muddy highway.
"Is it very far yet?" asked Ruth.
"More than sixty miles, and a bad road, and it is now half-past five," replied the boy.
"Oh, my! I hope we'll not be delayed after dark," said his sister.
"I never knew you to be such a 'fraid-cat before, Helen," laughed Ruth.
"Everything's gone wrong to-day. And those awful men scared me. Let's stop at the hotel at Boisé Landing, if it grows dark. Uncle Ike's is a long way beyond the town, Tom."
"Sure—if you say so," agreed her brother, cheerfully. "I can send word up to the folks that we are all right. Of course, they will be expecting us this evening. I telegraphed them this morning that we were on the way."
The car plowed on through the mud. These roads were in very bad shape, and even while it had been dry, the traveling was bad enough. Now the wheels skidded and slipped, and the engine panted as though it were tired.
It missed explosions frequently, too, and Tomsat under the wheel with a very serious face indeed. It was not far to a small settlement called, on the map, Severn Corners. Tom knew he could get gas there, if he needed it, but he was not sure that there was a repair shop at the place. If the old machine played a trick on them again——
And it did! Right at the foot of a hill, and not far from the shore of Long Lake, the engine "died."
"Whatever shall we do?" cried Helen.
"No use wrangling about it," said Ruth, with a laugh. "Will we have to walk?"
"Walk! and carry the ropes and everything else of value?" demanded Helen.
"We can't leave the machine unprotected," said Tom, seriously. "No knowing what would happen to it. But it's not far to Severn Corners. Only two miles, or so."
"Now, I tell you," said Ruth, briskly. "You walk on, Tom, and get help. Bring back a team to drag the auto into town. Perhaps you'll find a farm before you go far. We'll remain here till you come back."
"That's what you'll have to do, Tommy," agreed his sister, as the boy hesitated. "Of course, I'm only fooling. I won't be afraid."
"I'll do my best, girls," Tom assured them. "I am sure you'll be perfectly safe," and Master Tom started off along the road at a quick trot.
CHAPTER IXQUEEN ZELAYA
Ruth and her chum were both a little troubled by Tom Cameron's departure, but even Helen had braced up and was determined not to show her fear. The situation of the girls in the auto on this lonely road was enough to trouble the mind of any person unfamiliar with the wilderness.
The shore of Long Lake (which they could see from their seats in the car) was as wild as any stretch of country through which they had traveled during the two days of the tour.
The stalled auto was on the main-traveled road, however, and there was a chance of somebody coming along. Ruth and Helen hoped that if this happened, it would be somebody who would remain with them until Tom's return.
Both kept this wish a secret, for each tried to cheer the other. Perhaps, had it not been for that adventure at the old house shortly before, neither girl would have felt so nervous.
The outlook from the stalled auto was very attractive, if wild. They could overlook a considerablepart of Long Lake, a stretch of its distant southern shore, and several islands.
The edge of the water was perhaps half a mile away, and the ground sloped abruptly from this road toward the lake. Following the very edge of the water was another road, but one which the girls knew nothing about and could scarcely see from the auto.
It was merely a brown ribbon of cart-path through the second-growth timber, and it wound along the hillside, sometimes approaching very close to the main highway. Before the county had built the better road, this path had been the trail to Boisé Landing.
Had the girls been looking that way, they might have seen, through a small break in the trees, some minutes after Tom left them, a string of odd-looking wagons moving slowly along this lower trail.
First two men walked ahead, smoking their pipes and plowing through the mud and water without regard to where they stepped. Then followed three freshly painted green wagons—vehicles something like old-fashioned omnibuses, but with windows in the sides and front, and a door and steps behind. Through the roof of one a stovepipe was thrust.
Behind followed a troop of horses, with two bare-legged, wild-looking youngsters astride eacha barebacked steed, and holding the others with leading-reins. These horses, as well as those drawing the wagons, were sleek and well curried.
A multitude of dogs ran in the mud and water, too, but there were no women and children about, save upon the front seats of each van with the drivers. Sounds from within the green vehicles, however, proclaimed the presence of a number of others.
They were a strange-looking people—all swarthy, dark-haired, red-lipped, men and women alike having their ears pierced. The rings in the lobes of the women's ears were much larger than the ornaments in those of the men.
At a certain opening in the shrubbery, the men ahead, looking upward, beheld the stalled auto and the two girls in it. One man held up his hand and the first wagon stopped. So did the remainder of the caravan.
The two spoke together, and then strode back to the first green van. The window behind the driver's seat was already open and a strange face appeared at it.
The man driving this van was young and rather handsome—in the same wild way that Roberto was handsome. Beside him sat a comely young woman, buxom of figure, with a child in her lap. Her head was encircled with a yellow silk kerchief, she wore a green, tight-fitting bodice, andher short skirt was of a peculiar purple. She wore black stockings and neat black pumps on her feet.
Between these two on the seat, from the open window, was thrust the wicked, haggard head of a woman who might have been a hundred from the network of wrinkles in her face, and her generally aged appearance. But her eyes—black as sloes—were as sharp as a bird's. Her lips were gray, thin, and drew back when she spoke, displaying several strong, yellow fangs rather than teeth!
When she spoke, it was with a hissing sound. She used the speech of the Gypsy folk, and the others—even the rough men in the road—were very respectful to her. They explained the stoppage of the caravan, and pointed out the auto and the girls above.
It was evident that one of the men had suggested something which pleased the hag, in regard to the strangers in the motor-car. She grinned suddenly, displaying gums and fangs in a most horrible grimace.
Nodding vigorously, she gave them some commands, and then spoke to the comely woman beside the driver. The latter passed the sleeping infant back to the old woman, who disappeared into the interior of the van. The younger woman leaped down into the road, and waiting besidethe two rough men, allowed the entire caravan to pass on, leaving them behind.
It was fast growing dark. The sun had disappeared behind the hills in the west, and long shadows were stretching their gaunt hands out for the girls in the auto. The chill wind which came after the tempest made them shiver, although they were somewhat sheltered by the curtains which Tom had arranged.
"I suppose wecouldsnuggle down here with the robes, in the tonneau, and spend the night in some comfort," suggested Ruth Fielding.
"Oh! don't mention it!" exclaimed her friend. "If Tom doesn't come back with a team, or with another auto, I'll never forgive him."
"Of course he will return. But he may be delayed, Helen."
"This auto-touring isn't as much fun as I thought it would be," groaned Helen Cameron. "Oh! what's that?"
She peered out of the automobile. There was a handsome, smiling, dark young woman standing in the road beside the car.
"Young ladies," said the stranger, in a pleasant voice, "are you in trouble? Can I help you at all?"
"My goodness me! do you live near here? Can we go home with you?" cried Helen, in excitement.
"Wait!" breathed Ruth, seizing her chum's arm, but Helen was too anxious to escape from her present situation to listen to Ruth.
"For if you'll take us in till my brother gets back from Severn Corners——"
"We are going to Severn Corners—my husband and I," said the woman, smiling.
"Oh! then you do not live near here?" cried Helen, in disappointment.
"Nobody lives near here, little lady," explained the stranger. "Nobody lives nearer than Severn Corners. But it is lonesome here. We will take you both on in our wagon—nobody shall hurt you. There is only my husband and baby and the old grandmother."
"Where is your wagon?" demanded Ruth, suddenly hopping out into the road and looking all about.
"Down yonder," said the woman, pointing below. "We follow the lower road. Just there. You can see the top of it."
"Oh! A bus! It's like Uncle Noah's," declared Helen, referring to the ancient vehicle much patronized by the girls at Briarwood Hall.
"Who are you?" demanded Ruth, again, with keen suspicion.
"We are pedlars. We are good folks," laughed the woman. She did, indeed, seem very pleasant, and even Ruth's suspicions were allayed.Besides, it was fast growing dark, and there was no sign of Tom on the hilltop ahead.
"Let's go on with them," begged Helen, seizing her chum's hand. "I am afraid to stay here any longer."
"But Tom will not know where we have gone," objected Ruth, feebly.
"I'll write him a note and leave it pinned to the seat."
She proceeded to do this, while Ruth lit the auto lamps so that neither Tom, on his return, or anybody else, would run into the car in the dark. Then they were ready to go with the woman, removing only their personal wraps and bags. They would have to risk having the touring car stripped by thieves before Tom Cameron came back.
"I don't believe there are any thieves around here," whispered Helen. "They would be scared to death in such a lonesome place!" she added, with a giggle.
Ruth felt some doubt about going with the woman. She was so dark and foreign looking. Yet she seemed desirous of doing the girls a service. And even she, Ruth, did not wish to stay longer on the lonely road. Something surely had happened to detain Tom.
In the south, too, "heat lightning" played sharply—and almost continuously. Ruth knewthat this meant the tempest was raging at a distance and that it might return to this side of the lake.
The thought of being marooned on this mountain road, at night, in such a storm as that which they had experienced two or three hours before, was more than Ruth Fielding could endure with calmness.
So she agreed to go with the woman. Tom would know where they had gone when he returned, for he could not miss the note his sister had left.
At least, that is what both girls believed. Only, they were scarcely out of sight of the car with the woman, when one of the rough-looking men, who had walked ahead of the Gypsy caravan, appeared from the bushes, stepped into the auto, tore the note from where it had been pinned, and at once slipped back into the shadows, with the crumpled paper in his pocket!
Now the girls and their guide were down on the lower road. There was a twinkling light that showed the green van, horses, and the handsome driver—and the man looked like Roberto.
"They are Gypsies, I believe," whispered Ruth.
"Oh! you have Gypsies on the brain," flung back her chum. "At least, we shall be dry in that bus, if it rains. And we can find somebodyat Severn Corners to put us up, even if there is no hotel."
Ruth sighed, and agreed. The woman had been speaking to the man on the seat. Now she took the lantern and went around to the back of the van.
"This way, little ladies," she said, in her most winning tone. "You may rest in comfort inside here. Nobody but the good old grandmother and my bébé."
"Come on!" said Helen to Ruth, leading the way.
There was a light in the interior and it dazzled the girls' eyes, as they climbed in. The door snapped to behind them, and the horses started along the road before either Ruth or Helen were able to see much of their surroundings.
And strange enough their surroundings were; berths on either side of the strange cart, made up for sleeping and covered with gay quilts. There were chests and boxes, some of them padlocked, and all with cushions on them for seats.
There was a table, and a hanging lamp, and a stove. A child was asleep in one of the bunks; a white-haired poodle lay crouched at the child's feet, and showed its teeth and snarled at the two visitors.
But the appearance that amazed—and really startled—the girls most was the figure that satfacing them, as they entered the van. It was that of an old, old crone, sitting on a stool, bent forward with her sharp chin resting on her clenched fists, and her elbows on her knees, while iron-gray elf-locks hung about her wrinkled, nut-brown face, half screening it.
Her bead-like eyes held the girls entranced from the first. Ruth and Helen looked at each other, startled and amazed, but they could not speak. Nor could they keep their gaze for long off the strange old woman.
"Who are you, little ladies?" croaked the hag at last.
Ruth became the spokesman. "We are two girls who have been motoring over the hills. Our motor-car broke down, and we were left alone while my friend's brother went for help. We grew fearful when it became dark——"
The gray lips opened again: "You own the motor-car, little ladies?"
"My friend's father owns it," said Ruth.
"Then your parents are wealthy," and the fangs suddenly displayed themselves in a dreadful smile. "It is fine to be rich. The poor Gypsy scarcely knows where to lay her head, but you little ladies have great houses and much money—eh?"
"Gypsy!" gasped Helen, seizing Ruth's hand.
Ruth felt a sinking at her own heart. All thestories she had ever heard of these strange, wandering tribes rushed in upon her mind again. She had not been afraid of Roberto, and the woman who had brought them to the van seemed kind enough. But this old hag——!
"Do not shrink from the old Romany woman," advised the hag, her eyes sparkling again. "She would not hurt the little ladies. She is a queen among her people—what she says is law to them. Do not fear."
"Oh, I see no reason why we should be afraid of you," Ruth said, trying to speak in an unshaken voice. "I think you all mean us kindly, and we are thankful for this lift to Severn Corners."
Something like a cackle broke from the hag's throat. "Queen Zelaya will let nothing befall you, little ladies," she declared. "Fear not. Her word is law among the Romany folk, poor as she may be. And now tell me, my little birds,—tell me of your riches, and your great houses, and all the wealth your parents have. I love to hear of such things—even I, poor Zelaya, who have nothing after a long, long life of toil."
CHAPTER XIN THE GYPSY CAMP
Ruth remembered what Roberto had said about his miserly grandmother. She believed these people who had offered her and Helen a ride were of the same tribe as Roberto, and the way Queen Zelaya spoke, caused the girl to believe that this old woman and Roberto's grandmother were one and the same person.
She could say nothing to Helen at the moment. Personally she felt more afraid of this Gypsy Queen than she had of the two rough men in the abandoned house that afternoon!
"Come!" repeated Zelaya. "Tell me of all the riches and jewels—the gold and silver-plates you eat from, the jewelry you have to wear, the rich silks—all of it! I love to hear of such things," exclaimed the woman, grinning again in her terrible way.
Helen opened her lips to speak, but Ruth pinched her. "Tell her nothing," the girl of the Red Mill whispered. "I am afraid we have said too much already."
"Why?" queried Helen, wonderingly.
"Pshaw! this old woman can't hurt us. Isn't she funny?"
"Speak up, my little ladies!" commanded Queen Zelaya. "My will is law here. Do not forget that."
"I guess your will isn't much law tous," replied Helen, laughing and tossing her head. "You see, we do not know you——"
"You shall!" hissed the horrible old creature, suddenly stretching forth one of her claw-like hands. "Come here!"
Ruth seized her friend tightly. Helen was laughing, but suddenly she stopped. The queen's terrible eyes seemed to hold the girl in a spell. Involuntarily Helen's limbs bore her toward the far end of the van.
The girl's face became pale; her own eyes protruded from their sockets; the Gypsy Queen charmed her, just as a snake is said to charm a young bird in its nest.
But Ruth sprang after her, seized Helen's arm again, and shook her.
"You stop that!" she cried, to the old woman. "Don't you mind her, Helen. She has some wicked power in her eyes, my dear!"
Her cry broke the hypnotic spell the woman had cast over Helen Cameron. The latter sank down, trembling and sobbing, with her hands over her face.
"Oh, dear, Ruthie! I wish we hadn't gotten into this wagon," she moaned.
"I am sure I wish so, too," returned her chum, in a low voice, while the old woman rocked herself to and fro in her seat, and cackled her horrid laughter.
"Aren't we ever going to get to that town? Tom said it was only two miles or a little over."
"I wish we could speak to that other woman," muttered Ruth.
"Do you suppose this old thing is crazy?" whispered Helen.
"Worse than that," returned Ruth. "I am afraid of them all. I don't believe they mean us well. Let's get out, Helen."
"Oh! where shall we go?" returned her friend, in a tone quite as soft as Ruth's own.
"We must be somewhere near the town."
"It is pitch dark outside the windows," complained Helen.
"Let's try it. Pitch dark is not as bad as this wicked old creature——"
The hag laughed again, although she was not looking at them. Surely she could not hear the girls' whispers, yet her cackling laugh sent a shiver over both girls. It was just as though Queen Zelaya, as she called herself, could read what was in their minds.
"Yes, yes!" whispered Helen, with sudden eagerness in her voice. "You are right. We will go."
"We'll slip out without anybody but the old woman seeing us——Then we'll run!"
Ruth jumped up suddenly and stepped to the door at the rear of the van. She turned the knob and tried to open it.The door was fastened upon the outside!
Again the old woman broke into her cackling laugh. "Oh, no! oh, no!" she cried. "The pretty, rich little ladies cannot go yet. They must be the guests of the poor old Gypsy a little longer—they must eat of her salt. Then they will be her friends—and maybe they will help to make her rich."
The girls stood close together, panting, afraid. Helen put her lips to Ruth's ear, and whispered:
"Doesthatmean she is going to hold us for ransom? Oh, dear! what did I say this very day? IknewGypsies were like this."
"Hush!" warned Ruth. "Try and not let her see you are so afraid. Perhaps she means only to frighten us."
"But—but when she looks at me, I seem to lose everything—speech, power to move, even power to think," gasped Helen.
Just then the van turned suddenly from the road and came to a halt. They had been travelingmuch faster than Ruth and Helen had supposed.
Lights flashed outside, and dogs barked, while the voices of men, women and children rose in a chorus of shouts and cries.
"Oh, thank goodness!" exclaimed Helen. "They have gotten into town at last."
Ruth feared this was not so. She tried to peer out of one of the windows. There was a bonfire at one side, and she thought she saw a tent. There were other wagons like the one in which they seemed to be imprisoned.
"Now they'llhaveto let us out," repeated Helen.
"I am afraid not," returned the girl of the Red Mill. "This is the Gypsy camp, I am sure, dear. Do try to be brave! I think they never meant to take us after Tom, at all. We are prisoners, dear."
At once Helen's spirits sank, but she grew angry.
"You'd better not keep us here," she cried, looking again at the old woman. "My father has plenty of money and he will spend it all to get me back—and to punish you."
"We will not take all his money from him, my pretty little lady," returned Zelaya. "Only a part of it. And the poor Gypsy has nothing," and once more she cackled.
The door of the van was unlocked and opened. In the lamplight appeared a rough-looking man, with an evil face and a squint in one eye. He said something to the queen in their own tongue, but he spoke with great respect, and removed his hat and bowed to her, when she replied.
Ruth and Helen started for the door, but the man motioned them back and scowled at them in an evil manner. They could see a crowd of curious faces without, and behind this man were children, women both old and young, and a few men.
Zelaya lifted the child from its bed, and passed her into the arms of the woman who had guided Ruth and Helen to the van. She smiled upon the girls just as pleasantly as before, but now they knew that she was false and cruel.
Then the queen waved her hand and the door was closed. "You remain with me to-night, little ladies. Oh! Zelaya would let nothing trouble you—no, no!"
Helen burst into wild sobs at this, and threw herself upon the floor of the van. Ruth faced the old woman with wrathful sparks in her brown eyes.
"You are acting very foolishly, indeed, whoever you are. You Gypsies cannot carry things with such a high hand in this State of New York. You'll find out——"
"I am Zelaya, the Queen," interrupted the oldhag, hoarsely. "Have a care! I will put a spell upon you, little lady——"
"Pooh! you can't frighten me that way," declared Ruth Fielding. "I am not afraid of your spells, or your fortune telling, or any of your foolish magic. If you believe in any of it yourself, you have not gained much wisdom all the years you have lived."
"You do not fear the arts of my people?" repeated Zelaya, trying to hold Ruth with her eye as she had Helen.
"No, I do not. I fear your wickedness. And I know you must be very dishonest and cruel. But you have no more supernatural power than I have myself!"
Zelaya's wrinkled face suddenly reddened with passion. She raised her claw-like hand and struck the bold girl sharply upon the cheek.
"Impudence!" she muttered.
"Andthatis nothing supernatural," said Ruth, with continued boldness, although the blow had hurt her—leaving its mark. "You are breaking the laws of the land, which are far more powerful than any Gypsy law——"
"Wait!" commanded the woman, threateningly. "You will learn yet, bold girl, how strong our laws are."
She went back to her stool, mumbling to herself. Ruth lifted Helen into one of the berths,and sat down beside her. By and by the door of the van opened again and a bold-looking young woman—not the one that had brought them to the van—came in with three wooden bowls of a savory stew. She offered the tray to the visitors at a motion from old Zelaya, so that they had their choice before the queen received her own supper.
"Let's eat it," whispered Ruth to Helen, when she saw that Zelaya plunged her own tin spoon into the stew. "It surely isn't drugged, orshewouldn't touch it."
They ate greedily, for both were hungry. It takes more than fear to spoil the healthy appetite of youth!
"Do you suppose," whispered Helen, "that we could climb out of one of these windows after she falls asleep?"
"I am sure I couldn't get through one," returned Ruth. "And I doubt if you could. Besides, there will be guards, and the dogs are awake. We've got to wait for help from outside, my dear."
"Do you suppose Tom will find us?"
"I hope not!" exclaimed Ruth. "Not while he is alone. But he certainly will give the alarm, and the whole countryside will be aroused."
"Oh, dear, me! this old woman seems so sure that she can hold us captive."
"I think she is crazy," Ruth declared. "And the other Gypsies must lack good sense, too, or they would not be governed by her."
The queen gobbled down her supper and then prepared to retire to her own bunk. She told the girls to do the same, and they removed their shoes and outer garments and lay down—one on one side of the wagon, and one on the other.
Ruth's head was toward the door. She could watch the movements of the old Gypsy woman. Zelaya did not go to sleep at all, but seemed to be waiting for the camp to get quiet and for her two visitors to fall into slumber.
She kept raising her head and looking first at Helen, then at Ruth. The latter knew by her chum's breathing that, despite her fears, Helen had fallen asleep almost instantly.
So Ruth began to breathe deeply and regularly, too. She closed her eyes—almost entirely. This was what Zelaya had been waiting for.
Silently the old woman arose and turned up the lampwick a little. She knelt down before one of the padlocked boxes and unlocked it softly. Then she rummaged in the box—seemingly beneath a lot of rubbish that filled it, and drew forth a japanned box—like a cashbox. This was locked, too, and Zelaya wore the key of it on a string about her neck.
Silently, with a glance at the two girls now andthen, she unlocked this box and opened it on the top of the chest, before which she knelt.
Ruth could see the old woman's face. It changed very much as she gazed upon what was in the japanned box. Her black eyes glowed, and her gray, thin lips were wreathed in a smile of delight.
Again Ruth remembered Roberto's account of his grandmother. She was a miser, and he had mentioned that he had seen her at night gloating over her hoarded wealth.
Surely Zelaya had all the signs of a miser. The next moment Ruth saw that the old woman verily possessed something worth gloating over.
She lifted from the interior of the box a string of flashing gems—a broad band, or necklace, of them, in fact—and let them flow through her fingers in a stream of sparkling light. They were beautiful, beautiful pearls—a really wonderful necklace of them!
Ruth held her breath for a moment. The queen turned suddenly and shot a keen, suspicious glance at her. The girl knew enough to cough, turn slightly, and recommence her steady breathing.
The old woman had dropped the pearls in haste. Now she picked them up again, and went on with her silent worship of the gems.
Ruth did not startle her again; but she sawsomething that made her own heart beat faster and brought the perspiration out upon her limbs.
Above the old woman's head, and behind her, was a window. Pressed close to the pane of the window Ruth saw a face—dark, evil, be-mustached. It was one of the Gypsy men.
She remembered now what she had overheard between the two supposed tramps who had taken shelter in the deserted house during the tempest. Wasthisone of those two ruffians? And was he the one who had railed at the division of some stolen treasure, and had spoken with covetousness of the beautiful pearls?
The thought made Ruth tremble. His wicked face withdrew, but all the time the Gypsy queen was admiring the necklace, Ruth felt that the evil eyes of the man were also gloating over the pearls.
CHAPTER XITOM ON THE TRAIL
In spite of the fact that his sister thought it hard that Tom Cameron had not returned to the stalled auto by dark, the lad was having no easy time.
In the first place, he had not run a mile on the road to Severn Corners when he stepped on a pebble, turned his ankle sharply, and had to hobble the rest of the way at a much slower pace than he had expected.
All the time, too, Tom was troubled about the uncertainty of there being at the Corners any repair shop. He knew it was a small settlement. At most, the repair garage would be very small, and perhaps the mechanic a mere country "jack-of-all-trades," who would fumble the job.
To obtain a car to drag his own into the town was beyond the boy's hopes, and when he came at last to a comfortable looking farmhouse some half a mile that side of the settlement, he determined to see if he could not obtain a pair of horsesfrom the farmer, to get the car to the hamlet.
He approached the back door of the house without seeing anybody about. It was already growing dark, he had hobbled so slowly on the road. As he stepped upon the porch, Tom heard a sudden furious barking inside the house.
"Welcome to our city!" he muttered. "If nobody's at home butthatsavage beast, I'm likely to fare about as Roberto did at that farmhouse 'way back on the road by Culm Falls."
But he ventured to rap upon the door. It was one of those old-fashioned doors which opens in two parts. The upper half swung outward, but the lower remained bolted.
Lucky for Tom Cameron this was so. A great, shaggy beast, with gleaming fangs and slobbering jaws, appeared over the ledge, scratching with his strong claws to get out at the intruder.
"What do you want?" demanded a shrill voice from somewhere behind the excited brute. "We ain't got nothin' for tramps."
"I should say you most certainlyhadsomething for tramps, Madam," said Tom, when he could make himself heard. "Any tramp would run from that fellow."
"I don't seeyourunning. But you better," advised the woman, who was thin-faced, scant of hair, and had a voice about as pleasant as a whip-saw going through a knot.
"ButIam not a tramp, I assure you, Madam," said Tom, politely.
"Huh! ye look it," declared the woman, without any politeness at all.
And the boydidlook rather dilapidated. He had gotten more than a little wet in the first of the shower, and he had pawed around among the "internal arrangements" of the balky auto to such purpose, that he was disheveled and oil-streaked from head to foot.
"I'm in disguise just now, Ma'am," laughed Tom, cheerfully. "But really, I have not come begging either food or lodging. Is your husband at home?"
"Yes, he is. And he'll be here in a minute and chase ye off the place—ef ye don't scat at once," said the woman, sourly. "Hewouldn't hold back this dog, now, I tell ye."
"Please believe me, Madam," urged Tom, "that I am better than I appear. Our car broke down on the road yonder, and I have come to see if I can hire a team of horses to drag it into the Corners."
"Car? What kind of a car? Ain't no railroad here," she said, suspiciously.
The dog had barked himself breathless by now and they could talk a little easier. Tom smiled, as he replied:
"Our motor car—automobile."
"Huh! why didn't ye say so?" she demanded. "Tryin' to fool me. It's bad enough ter drive one o' them abominations over people's roads, but tryin' to make out ye air on a train—though, land o' Goshen! some of ye make 'em go as fast as airy express I ever see. Wal! what about your ortermobile?"
"It's broken down," said Tom, feeling that he had struck the wrong house, after all, if he expected help.
"I'm 'tarnal glad of it!" snapped the farmer's wife. "Nuthin' could please me better. Las' time I went to town one o' them plagued nuisances come hootin' erlong an' made the old mare back us clean inter the ditch—an' I broke a dozen an' a ha'f of aigs right in the lap of my new bombazeen dress. Drat 'em all, I say!"
"I am very sorry, Ma'am, that the accident occurred. But I can assure you I was not the cause of it," Tom said, quietly, and stifling a great desire to laugh. "I wish only to get your husband to help me with his team—and I will pay him well."
"Huh! what d'ye call well?" she demanded. "A boy like you ain't likely to have much money."
Thus brought to a "show down," Tom promptly pulled out his billcase and opened it in the light that streamed out of the doorway. The woman could see that he carried quite a bundle ofnotes—and that they were not all single dollar bills!
"Land o' Goshen!" she ejaculated. "Where'd you steal all that money, ye young ruffian? I thought there was suthin' mighty bad about you when I fust set eyes on ye."
This was a compliment that Tom Cameron had not been looking for! He was certainly taken aback at the woman's words, and before he could make any response, she raised her voice and began to shout for "Sam!"
"Crickey!" thought the boy, "I hope Sam will have a better opinion of me than she does, or I'm likely to get into trouble."
He began to back off the porch, and had his ankle not pained him so, he certainly would have set off on a run. Perhaps it is well he did not try this, however, for the woman cried:
"You move a step off'n thet platform before Sam Blodgett comes an' I'll open the lower ha'f of this door and let the dawg loose on ye!"
Then she bawled for her husband again, and pretty soon a shouted response came from the direction of the barns. Then a lantern flickered and swung, and Tom knew the man was coming toward the house.
He appeared—a short, heavy-set man, barefooted, and with a pail of milk in one hand and the lantern in the other.
"What's the matter, Sairy?" he demanded.
"Who's this?"
"Thet's whatIwanter know," snapped the woman. "It 'pears like he's one o' these runaway boys ye read about in the papers—an' he's stole some money."
"I haven't either!" cried Tom, in some exasperation. "I don't have to steal money—or anything else, I hope. I showed her that I had some money, so that she would believe I could pay you for some work I wanted done——"
"What work?" interposed the farmer.
Tom told him about the stalled auto and what he wanted.
"How much'll ye give?" shot in the farmer, right to the point.
"What do you ask to drag the machine to town—to the Corners, I mean?"
"If it's where ye say it is, ten dollars!"
"All right," agreed the boy. "Your wife knows I have the money. I'll pay you when we get to the Corners."
"I know ye got the money," said the woman. "But I don't knowhowye got it. And if you've got an ortermobile, too, I bet ye stolethat!"
"You hesh up, Sairy," advised Mr. Blodgett. "No need of your sp'ilin' a trade. Gimme my supper. I'll hafter eat b'fore I go with ye, young man."
"Oh, all right," sighed Tom, remembering how the girls must be very much frightened by this time.
The man tramped into the house with the milk and the lantern. Neither he nor his wife asked Tom inside—or mentioned supper to him. The woman put it steaming on the table and Tom—like the dog—might stand and look on.
At last the farmer was finished. "Guess the team's eat by now," he remarked, and came out with the lantern hung on his arm. All this time the dog had had "fits and starts" of wanting to get at Tom and eat him up. Now he slipped past his master and ran at the visitor with a savage growl.
The boy had no idea of being made the supper of the brute, no matter how hungry Fido might be. So he kicked out and barely touched him. Instantly the brute set up a terrible "ki-yi-ing!" and shot off the porch and disappeared into the darkness. Evidently the Blodgetts kept the animal for its bark, for it did not have the pluck of a woodchuck!
"Come on," advised Sam, as the woman began to rail again. "She's wound up an' ain't likely to run down again for a week. You sure you wanter pay ten dollars for this job?"
"I'm sure Iwillpay that for it, whether I want to or not," declared Tom, with confidence.
"Aw right. We'll be movin'. Maybe another shower by'm'by, an' I sha'n't wanter be out in it."
"We'll go just as fast as you want to," said Tom, hobbling along to the stables. "I won't keep you back, Mr. Blodgett."
"You're lame, I see," said the man, not unkindly. "You kin straddle one of the hosses if you like."
Tom was glad enough to do this, and in a few minutes they were going back over the dark track Tom had come, the harness jingling from the horses' hames, and Mr. Blodgett trudging sturdily along by the animals' heads.
They came to the top of the ridge from which the stalled car had last been seen by Tom. "There are the lights!" he cried.
He was glad to see them. They shone cheerfully in the dark, and he had no idea that the girls were in any trouble.
But when they got down to the bottom of the hill there was neither sign nor sound of the two girls. Tom shouted at the top of his voice. He searched the car all over for some written word. He saw that the girls had carried off only their own personal belongings and nothing else.
What could it mean? Surely no thieves had come this way, or the car would have been stripped of everything portable, and of value. At least,so it seemed to Master Tom. He was not wise enough to suspect that the goods in the car had been left alone to mislead him. The Gypsies had been after bigger game than a few dollars' worth of auto furnishings.
"Come now!" exclaimed Sam Blodgett. "I can't wait here all night. I only agreed to drag the car ter town."
"But where could those girls have gone? My sister and Ruth Fielding?"
"Ye ain't payin' me ter be no detectif," drawled the man. "Come! Shell I hitch on?"
"Oh, yes! I don't know what else to do," groaned the boy. "I've got to get the car fixed first of all. Then I will find help and follow the girls."
The farmer was as unsympathetic as a man possibly could be. He started the car and let Tom ride in it. But he had no word of advice to give about the absent girls.
Perhaps, like his wife, he believed that Tom was not honest, that the car was stolen, and that Tom's companions were mythical!
They rolled into Severn Corners at ten o'clock. Of course, in a hamlet of that kind, there was scarcely a light burning. Tom had learned from Blodgett that the local blacksmith sometimes "monkeyed with ortermobiles that come erlong busted."
So he had the farmer draw the car to the door of the blacksmith shop.
"Sim lives right next door, there," said Blodgett, preparing to depart. "Mebbe ye kin wake him up an' convince him he'd oughter mend yer contraption in the middle of the night. But Sim Peck is constable, too, so mebbe ye won't keer ter trouble him," and the farmer drove away with a chuckle.
This news was, however, important to Tom. A constable was just about the man he most wanted to see. It had dawned on the boy's mind that his sister and Ruth had gotten into trouble, and he must find help for them.
The street of the village was dark. This was one of the nights when the moon was booked to shine, but forgot to! The town fathers evidently lit the street lights only when the almanac said there was to be no moon.
Tom removed one of the headlights and found his way to the door of the cottage next to the smithy. There was neither bell nor knocker, but he thundered at the panel with right good will, until he heard a stir in a chamber above. Finally a blind opened a little way and a sleepy voice inquired what he wanted.
"Are you the blacksmith, sir?" asked Tom.
"Huh? Wal! I should say I was. But I ain't no doctor," snarled the man above, "and Iain't in the habit of answering night calls. Don't ye see I ain't got no night bell? Go away! you're actin' foolish. I don't shoe hosses this time o' night."
"It's not a horse," explained Tom, near laughter despite his serious feelings. "It's a motor-car."
"Naw, I don't shoe no ortermobile, neither!" declared the man, and prepared to close the blind.
"Say, Mister!" shouted Tom. "Do come down. I need you——"
"If I come down thar, I won't come as no blacksmith, nor no mechanic. I'll come as the constable and run ye in—ye plaguey whipper-snapper!"
"All right," cried Tom, fearing he would shut the blind. "Come down as constable. I reckon I need you in that character more than any other."
"I believe ye do!" exclaimed the man, angrily. "If you air there when I git on my pants, you'll take a walk to the callaboose. None o' you young city sports air goin' to disturb the neighborhood like this—not if I know it!"
Meanwhile, Tom could hear him stirring around, tumbling over the chairs in the dark, and growling at his boots, and otherwise showing his anger. But the boy was desperate, and hestood still until the man appeared—tin star pinned to his vest.
"Wal, by gravey!" exclaimed the blacksmith-constable. "Ain't you a reckless youngster ter face up the majesty of the law in this here way?"
Tom saw that, after all, the constable was grinning, and was not such an ill-natured fellow, now that he was really awake. The boy plunged into his story and told it with brevity, but in detail.
"Why, I see how it is, youngster," said the man. "You're some scart about your sister and that other girl. But mebbe nothing's happened 'em at all."
"But where have they gone?"
"I couldn't tell you. We'll make search. But we've got to have something to travel in, and if it don't take too long to fix your auto, we'll travel inthat."
Of course, this was good sense, and Tom saw it, impatient as he was. The constable laid aside the vest with the badge of office upon it, and the blacksmith proceeded to open his forge and light a fire and a lantern. Then he listened to Tom's explanation of what had happened to the car, and went to work.
Fortunately the damage was not serious, and the blacksmith was not a bad mechanic. Therefore, in an hour and a half he closed the smithyagain, removing his apron, and the constable donned his vest and got into the car beside the troubled Tom.
"Now let her out, son!" advised the official. "You've got all the law with ye that there is in this section, and ye kin go as fast as ye please."
Tom needed no urging. He shot the repaired car over the road at a pace that would have made his sister and her chum scream indeed!
Once at the bottom of the hill where the car had been stalled, they stopped and got out, each taking a lantern by the constable's advice. Blodgett and his horses had done their best to trample out the girls' footsteps, but there had been no other vehicle along the road, and the searchers managed to find footprints of the girls at one side.
"Sure them's them?" asked Mr. Peck.
"You can see they are not the prints of men's shoes," said Tom, confidently.
"Right ye air! And here's another woman's shoe—only larger. They went away with some woman, that's sure."
"A woman?" muttered Tom, greatly amazed. "Whoever could she be—and where have they gone with her?"