CHAPTER XIIA BREAK FOR LIBERTY
Ruth finally slept in the Gypsy van as sweetly as though she were in her own little bed in the gable room at the Red Mill. She was bodily wearied, and she had lost herself while yet she was watching the Gypsy Queen worshipping the pearl necklace, and fearing that the man with the evil eyes was peering into the interior of the van.
A hundred noises of the Gypsy camp awakened her when the sun was scarcely showing his face. Dogs barked and scampered about; horses neighed and stamped; roosters crowed and hens cackled. The children were crying, or laughing, and the women chattering as they went about the getting of breakfast at the fires.
The fires crackled; the men sat upon the van tongues cleaning harness after the rain and mud of the afternoon before. The boys were polishing the coats of the beautiful horses, till they shone again.
All these activities Ruth Fielding could see through the tiny windows of the queen's van, inwhich she and Helen Cameron were imprisoned. Her chum roused, too, but was half tempted to cry, when she remembered their circumstances. Queen Zelaya had gone out.
"Come on!" exclaimed Ruth. "We've got to make the best of it. Get on your dress and shoes, and perhaps they will let us out, too."
"Let's run away, Ruthie," whispered Helen.
"The very first chance we get—sure we will!" agreed her chum.
They found the door unlocked, and, as nobody stayed them, the two girls descended the steps to the ground. A cross-looking dog came and smelled of them, but the bold-looking girl who had brought the supper the night before drove him away.
Ruth essayed to speak to her, but she shook her head and laughed. Perhaps she did not understand much English.
Ruth was looking around eagerly for Roberto. Had she seen the Gypsy boy, she would certainly have thrown herself—and Helen—upon him for protection. But although not many of the Gypsies looked unkindly toward the girls, none appeared really friendly.
The woman who had aided in their capture the night before took them down to the water, where they might wash their faces and hands and comb their hair, using the toilet requisites fromtheir bags. Nobody had offered to interfere with them in any manner, or touch their belongings. The woman waited patiently until they were ready, and took them back to the camping ground for breakfast.
But Ruth had seen something. At first she dared not whisper it to her chum. After they had eaten (and a very good breakfast it was that the Gypsies gave them), she managed to get Helen out of earshot of the watchers.
Everybody in the camp watched the prisoners. The girls were not driven back into the van again at once, but Ruth saw that even the children circled about her and Helen, at a little distance, so that the girls were continuously guarded.
They sat down upon an old stump, in an open space, where nobody could creep near enough to hear what Ruth said to Helen without one or the other of the captives seeing the eavesdropper.
"What is it?" asked Helen, anxiously. "Oh, Ruth! where do you suppose Tom is? What can he think of us?"
"I only hope Tom won't come along here alone and fall into trouble, too," said the girl of the Red Mill, in return. "But I believe there is a chance for us to get away without his help, dear."
"Oh, how?" demanded her chum.
"Did you look along the shore when we were down there to the lake just now?"
"Yes. In both directions. There wasn't a soul in sight but you and myself and that woman," returned Helen, showing that she had been observant to a degree, at least.
"You are right. It is a lonely spot. I saw nobody. But I saw a fishing punt."
"A fishing punt?"
"Yes. Pulled up on the shore a little way. There is a pole in it, too. It can be pushed off into the water easily, and I did not see another boat of any kind in either direction."
"Oh, Ruth! Neither did I. I didn't even see the boat you speak of."
"It is there just the same. We can reach it in one minute from here—by running."
"Let's run, then!" whispered Helen, energetically.
"We'll wait our chance. They are watching too closely now. By and by they must get more careless. Then we'll try it."
"But I don't just see what we can do in that boat," queried Helen, after a moment's thought.
"Push out into the lake, so that they can't reach us. Then risk being seen by Tom or somebody else who will help us escape the Gypsies."
"But these men will follow us," said Helen,with a shudder. "They can swim—some of them—surely."
"And if they try it, we'll beat them off with the push-pole," declared Ruth. "Keep up your pluck, Helen. They will not really dare hurt us—especially if they expect to get money for our release. And I'd like to know," added Ruth, with rather a bitter little laugh, "who will paymyransom?"
"I'll make father pay whatever they ask," whispered Helen. "Oh, dear! won't he be justmadwhen he hears about it?"
Soon the activities of the camp changed. It was plain to the two girls that their captors had no intention of spending the day in this dell by the lake side.
A number of the men and boys had gone off with some of the horses early. Now they returned, and it was evident that the men were angry, if not a little frightened. They talked loudly with Zelaya, and the Queen of the Gypsies seemed to be scolding them soundly.
It was surprising to the visitors at the camp that the old woman should have such influence over these black-browed ruffians. But shedidpossess a power; it was self-evident!
Soon preparations were begun for shifting camp. The tents were struck and all the paraphernalia of the camp was returned to the three vans.
"Something has happened," whispered Ruth to Helen. "Perhaps Tom has raised the hue and cry for us, and they are afraid of being caught here with us in their possession."
"Mean old things!" snapped Helen. "I wish they would all be caught and put into jail."
"The little children, too?"
"The little ones will grow up to be big ones—and they are all bad," declared Helen, with confidence.
"I can't believe that Roberto is bad," said Ruth, thoughtfully. "I wish he was with them now. I believe he would help us get away."
"Maybe these are not his people."
"I think they are," returned Ruth. But she did not say anything then to Helen about the pearl necklace, and the cashbox of Queen Zelaya.
The necklace was never out of Ruth's thought, however, for she was sure it had been stolen. The girl of the Red Mill would know the necklace again; wherever she might see it.
In the first place it was the most beautiful necklace she had ever seen. But there was a peculiar pendant attached to it—in the shape of a fleur-de-lis—of larger pearls, that would distinguish it among any number of such articles of adornment.
Ruth kept in mind the chance she hoped would arise for their escape. Helen was hopeless; but she had agreed to make the attempt, if Ruth did.
The whole camp was busy in preparing for departure. There were not so many eyes now upon the girls. And—therefore—there being no regular guard set over them, the opportunity Ruth hoped for arose.
In harnessing one of the horses to a van, something happened to call most of the excited crowd together. The horse kicked, and one of the men was hurt.
The moment the shouting over this incident arose, Ruth pinched Helen and they both got up and slipped into the wood. They were out of sight in a moment, and having chosen the side toward the lake, they set off at top speed through the underbrush for the spot where Ruth had seen the fishing punt.
"Suppose it leaks?" gasped Helen, running hard beside her friend.
"Well! we'll know it when we're in deep water," grimly returned Ruth.
At that moment they heard a great hullabaloo at the camp behind them.
"They've discovered we're missing," gasped Helen.
"Come on, then!" cried Ruth. "Let's see if we can outwit them. We've got a chance for liberty, my dear. Don't lose heart."
CHAPTER XIIIRUTH IN THE TOILS
The lake shore was just ahead of the fugitives. Ruth had been but a few yards out of the way in her calculations. She and Helen came out upon the beach almost at the spot where the fishing punt lay.
The boat appeared to be sound, and the pole lying in it was a straight, peeled ash sapling, not too heavy for either of the girls to handle.
"Jump in, Helen!" commanded Ruth. "Take the pole and push off. I'll push here at the bow."
"But you'll get all wet!" quavered her chum.
"As thoughthatmattered," returned the other, with a chuckle, as she leaned against the bow of the punt and braced her feet for the grand effort. "Now!"
Helen had scrambled in and seized the pole. She thrust it against the shore, her own weight bearing down the stern, which was in the water, and thus raising the bow a trifle.
"All-to-geth-er!" gasped Ruth, as though they were at "tug-of-war" in the Briarwood gymnasium.
The boat moved. Ruth's feet slipped and she scrambled to get a fresh brace for them.
"Now, again!" she cried.
At that moment a great hound came rushing out of the wood upon their trail, raised his red eyes, saw them, and uttered a mournful bay.
"We're caught!" wailed Helen.
"We're nothing of the kind!" returned her friend. "Push again, Helen!"
One more effort and Ruth was ankle deep in the water. The boat floated free!
But before the brave girl could scramble aboard, the hound leaped for her. Helen screamed. That shriek was enough, without the baying of the hound, to bring their enemies to the water's edge.
Ruth Fielding was terrified—of course! But she gave a final push to the boat as the hound grabbed her. Fortunately the beast seized only her skirt. Perhaps he had been taught not to actually worry his prey.
However, the girl was dragged to her knees, and she could not escape. The punt shot out into the lake, and Ruth shouted to her chum:
"Keep on! keep on! Never mind me! Find Tom and bring help—— Oh!"
The weight of the big dog had cast her into the shallow water. She immediately scrambled to her feet again. The hound held onto theskirt. The material was too strong to easily tear, and she could not get away.
There was a crashing in the brush and out upon the edge of the lake came half a dozen of the Gypsy men and one of the women. She was the one who had befooled Ruth and Helen into entering the green van the night before. When she saw Ruth's plight, standing in the water with the hound holding her, she laughed as though it were a great joke.
But the men did not laugh. He with the squinting eye strode down to the girl and would have slapped her with his hard palm, had not the woman jumped in and put herself between the man and Ruth. She seemed to threaten him in her own language, and the ruffian desisted.
One of the boys threw off his clothing—all his outer garments, at least—and plunged right into the lake after Helen. The boat had swung around, for there was considerable current in Long Lake.
"Don't let him come near you, Helen!" screamed Ruth. "Use your pole!"
Her friend stood very bravely in the stern of the punt and raised the pole threateningly. The Gypsy boy could not easily overtake the boat, which was drifting farther and farther out toward the middle of the lake.
Some of the others began running along theshore as though to keep pace with the boat. But suddenly a long-drawn, eerie cry resounded from the direction of the camp. The men stopped and returned; the boy scrambled ashore and hastily grabbed his clothing. The woman and the squint-eyed man dragged Ruth into the bush.
The cry was a signal of some kind, and one not to be disobeyed. The Gypsies hurried back to the vans, and Ruth did not see Helen again.
All was confusion at the camp. The horses were ready to start, and the movables were packed. The children and women swarmed into two of the vans. Queen Zelaya stood at the door of the other, and the moment she saw that one of the prisoners had not been recovered, she began to harangue her people threateningly.
The squint-eyed man pushed Ruth toward the old woman. Zelaya's claw-like hand seized the girl's shoulder.
She was jerked forward and up the steps into the van. Almost at once the caravan started, and Zelaya pulled the door to, and darkened the windows.
"Quick, now!" she commanded the girl. "Take off your hat. Gypsies have no use for hats."
She seized it and thrust it into one of her boxes. Then she commanded Ruth to remove her frock, and that followed the hat into the same receptacle.Afterward the girl was forced to take off her shoes and stockings.
"Sit down here!" commanded Zelaya, as the van rolled along. The queen had been mixing some kind of a lotion in a bowl. Now with a sponge she anointed Ruth's face and neck, far below the collar of any gown she would wear; likewise her arms and hands, and her limbs from the knees down. Then Zelaya threw some earth on Ruth's feet and streaked her limbs with the same. She gave her a torn and not over-clean frock to put on instead of her own clothing, and insisted that she don the ugly garment at once.
"Now, Gentile girl," hissed the old woman, "if they come to search for you, speak at your peril. We say you are ours—a wicked, orphan Gypsy, wicked through and through."
She tore down Ruth's hair and rubbed some lotion into it that darkened its color, too. She really looked as wild and uncouth as the bold girl who waited upon the queen of the Gypsies.
"Now let them find you!" cackled the old woman. "You are Belle, my great-granddaughter, and you are touched here—eh?" and she tapped her own wrinkled forehead with her finger.
CHAPTER XIVROBERTO AGAIN
Ruth cried a little. But, after all, it was more because she was lonely than for any other reason. What would eventually happen to her in the Gypsy queen's toils she did not know. She had not begun to worry about that as yet.
Helen had gotten clear away. She was confident of that, and was likewise sure that her chum would rouse the authorities and come in search of her. Tom, too, was faithful; he must already be stirring up the whole neighborhood to find his sister and Ruth.
How far the caravan had traveled the night before, after the girls had joined the Gypsies, Ruth could not guess. But she realized that now they were making very good time up the road leading to Boisé Landing, along the edge of Long Lake.
There might be some pursuit already. If Tom had telegraphed his father, Mr. Cameron would come looking for Helen "on the jump"! And had the searchers any idea the Gypsies had capturedthe two girls, Ruth was sure that the wanderers would get into trouble very quickly.
"Why, even Uncle Jabez would 'start something,' as Tom would say, if he learned of this. I believe, even if I am not 'as good as a boy,' that Uncle Jabez loves me and would not let a parcel of tramps carry me off like this."
She wiped away the tears, therefore, and in looking into a cloudy little mirror screwed to the wall of the vehicle, she found that the tears did not wash off the walnut stain. She had been dyed with a "fast color," sure enough!
"If Heavy and The Fox, or Belle and Lluella could see me now!" thought Ruth Fielding.
Suddenly the caravan halted. There were shouts and cries, and evidently the other vans were being emptied of their occupants in a hurry. Some of the men seemed to be arguing in English at the head of the queen's van.
Ruth believed that a searching party had overtaken the Gypsies. She feared there would be a fight, and she was anxious to show herself, so that her unknown rescuers might see her.
But she dared not scream. Old Zelaya scowled at her so savagely and threatened her so angrily with her clenched fist, that Ruth dared not speak. Finally the old woman opened the door of the van and flung her down the steps.
The act was so unexpected that Ruth fell intothe arms of the crowd waiting for her. It was evidently ready for her appearance. The boys and girls, and some of the women, received her into their midst, and they made so much noise, chattering and shrieking, and dancing about her, that Ruth was both confused and frightened.
Had she herself shrieked aloud, her voice would have been drowned in the general hullabaloo. This noise was all intentional on the part of the Gypsies, for up at the head of the caravan Ruth caught a glimpse of a big man standing with a stout oak club in his hand and a big shiny star pinned to his vest near the armhole.
A constable! Whether he was there searching for her and Helen, or was merely making inquiries about a robbed hen-roost, the girl from the Red Mill could not guess. There was so much confusion about her, that she could not hear a word the constable said!
She waved her hand to him and tried to attract his attention. The girls and boys laughed at her, and pulled her about, and the bold girl she had seen before almost tore the frock from her shoulders.
Suddenly Ruth realized that, even did the constable look right at her, he would not discover that she was a white girl. She looked just as disreputable in every way as the Gypsy children themselves!
The constable came toward the first van. Zelaya now sat upon the top step, smoking a cheroot, and nodding in the sun as though she were too old and too feeble to realize what was going on. Yet Ruth was sure that the sly old queen had planned this scene and told her tribesmen what to do.
Ruth was whisked away from the steps of the queen's van, and borne off by the shouting, dancing children. She tried to cry out so that the constable would hear her, but the crowd drowned her cries.
She saw the constable search each of the three vans. Of course, he found no girls answering to the descriptions of Ruth and Helen—and it was the girls that he was searching for. He was Sim Peck, the blacksmith-constable from Severn Corners. It was a pity Tom Cameron had not been with him!
Finally Ruth saw that the man had given up the search, and the Gypsies were going to depart. She determined to make a desperate attempt to attract his attention to herself.
She suddenly sprang through the group of children, knocking the bold girl down in her effort, and started, yelling, for the constable. Instantly one of the men halted her, swung her about, clapped a palm over her mouth, and she saw him staring balefully down into her face.
"You do that ageen—I keel you!" he hissed.
It was the evil-eyed man who had spied upon Queen Zelaya, as she had worshipped the pearl necklace in the van the evening before. Ruth was stricken dumb and motionless. The man looked wicked enough to do just what he said he would.
She saw the constable depart. Then the Gypsies huddled into the wagons, and she was seized by Zelaya and put into the first van. The old witch was grinning broadly.
"Ah, ha!" she chuckled. "What does the Gentile girl think now? That she shall escape so easily Zelaya? Ha! she is already like one of our own kind. Her own parents would not know her—nor shall they see her again until they have paid, and paid in full!"
"You are holding the wrong girl, Zelaya," murmured Ruth. "Myparents are dead, and there is nobody to pay you a great ransom for me."
"False!" croaked the hag, and struck her again.
The caravan rolled on after that for a long way. It did not stop for dinner, and Ruth grew very hungry, for she and Helen had been too excited that morning to eat much breakfast.
Through the open door and the forward window Ruth saw considerable of the road. They were seldom out of sight of the lake. By andby they turned right down to the water's edge and she heard the horses' feet splashing through the shallow water.
She could not imagine where they were going. Out of the door she saw that they seemed to be leaving the land and striking right out into the lake. The water grew deeper slowly, rising first over one step and then another, while the shore of the lake receded behind them. The other vans and the boys driving the horses followed in their wake.
Curious, Ruth arose and went to the forward end of the van. She could see out between the driver and his wife, and over the heads of the horses. The latter were almost shoulder deep now, and were advancing very slowly.
Some rods ahead she saw that there was a wooded island. It was of good size and seemed to be densely covered with trees and brush. Yet, there was a patch of sandy shore toward which the horses were being urged.
The lake was so low, that there was a fordable stretch of its bottom between the mainland and this island. These Gypsies seemed to know this bar perfectly, and the driver of the queen's van made no mistake in guiding his span.
In half an hour the horses were trotting through the shallows again. They rolled out upon the white beach, and then Ruth saw that afaint wagon trail led into the interior of the island.
The Gypsies had been there before. There, in the middle of the wooded isle, was a clearing. The moment the vans arrived, all the people jumped out, laughing and talking, and the usual preparations for an encampment were begun. Only, in this case, Queen Zelaya sent the squint-eyed man and the ruffian who had so frightened Ruth to either shore of the island to keep watch.
Tents were set up, fires kindled, a great supper begun, and the poultry was set loose to roam at will. Somewhere the Gypsy children had picked up a kid and a little calf. Both of these were freed, and at once began to butt each other, to the vast delight of the little ones.
All about, under-foot and growling if they were disturbed, were the ugly dogs. Ruth was afraid of them!
Now that they were on the island, the Gypsies gave her slight attention. The children did not come near her, and she was glad of that. Of course, the adults knew she could not escape.
Later she heard one of the men on the shore shout. Nobody was disturbed at the camp, but after a little, there was some loud conversation and then somebody broke through the bushes and appeared suddenly in the little clearing.
Ruth Fielding gasped and sprang to her feet. Nobody noticed her.
The newcomer was Roberto. He strode swiftly across the camp to the queen's van. Zelaya sat upon the steps and when he came before her, he bowed very respectfully.
The old woman showed more emotion at his appearance than Ruth believed possible. She got up quickly and kissed the boy on both of his cheeks. Her eyes sparkled and she talked with him for some time in the Tzigane tongue.
Once or twice Roberto glanced in Ruth's direction, as though he and the old woman had been speaking of the captive girl. But, to the latter's surprise, she saw no look of recognition in the Gypsy boy's eyes.
Finally, when he parted from the queen, Roberto crossed the encampment directly toward Ruth. The girl, fearful, yet hoping he would see and know her, rose to her feet and took a single step toward him.
Roberto turned upon her fiercely. He struck at her with his arm and pushed Ruth roughly back into her seat. But although the action was so cruel and his look so hateful, the girl heard him whisper:
"Wait! Let the little lady have no fear!"
Then he passed on to greet his friends about the nearest campfire.
CHAPTER XVHELEN'S ESCAPE
Helen Cameron was so fearful at first of the Gypsies overtaking her, that she had no thought of any peril which might lie ahead of the drifting punt, into which she had scrambled. She realized that Ruth had sacrificed herself in their attempt to escape, but she could render her chum no help now. Indeed, the current which had seized the boat was so strong that she could not have gotten back to the shore, had she tried.
When the Gypsies disappeared into the wood, taking Ruth with them, Helen realized her helplessness and loneliness, and she wept. She sat in the stern of the punt and floated on and on, without regard to where she was going.
She could not have changed the course of the punt, however. She was now in too deep water; the guiding pole was of no use to her, and there were no oars, of course. She was drifting toward the middle of the lake, it seemed, yet the general direction was eastward.
There, at the lower end of the lake, a wide stream carried its waters toward the distant MinturnDam. But long before the stream came to that place, there was much of what the local guides called "white water."
These swift rapids Helen thought little about at first. She had had no experience to warn her of her peril. At this moment she was fearful only of the wild Gypsy clan that had tried to keep her prisoner and that had, indeed, succeeded in carrying away her dear friend, Ruth Fielding.
As she floated on, she saw nothing more of the Gypsies. She began to believe that they had not turned back to follow her along the edge of the lake. They were satisfied with their single prisoner!
"But father will see to that!" sobbed Helen. "He won't let them run away with Ruth Fielding—I know he won't! Dear, dear! what would I ever do if Ruth disappeared and we shouldn't meet each other again—or not until we were quite grown up?
"Such thingshavehappened! I've read about it in books. And those dreadful Gypsies make the children they capture become Gypsies, too. Suppose, years and years hence, I should meet Ruth and she should ask to tell my fortune as Gypsy women do—and she shouldn't know me——"
Helen began to sob again. She was working herself up into a highly nervous state and herimagination was "running away with her," as Ruth often said.
Just then she almost lost the punt-pole, and this near-accident startled her. She might need that pole yet—especially if the boat drifted into shallow water.
She looked all around. She stood up, so as to see farther. Not a moving object appeared along either shore of the lake. This was a veritable wilderness, and human habitations were far, far away.
She raised her eyes to the chain of hills over which she and her brother and Ruth had ridden the day before. At one point she could see the road itself, and just then there flashed into view an auto, traveling eastward at a fast clip.
"But, of course, they can't seeme'way down here," said Helen, shaking her head. "They wouldn't notice such a speck on the lake."
So she did not even try to signal to the motor-car, and it was quickly out of sight.
The current was now stronger, it seemed. The punt drifted straight down the lake toward the broad stream through which Long Lake was drained. Helen hoped the boat would drift in near one shore, or the other, but it entered the stream as near the middle as though it had been aimed for that point!
Here the water gripped the heavy boat anddrew it onward, swifter and swifter. At first Helen was not afraid. She saw the banks slipping by on either hand, and was now so far from the Gypsies, that she would have been glad to get ashore. Yet she did not think herself in any increased danger.
Suddenly, however, an eddy gripped the boat. To her amazement the craft swung around swiftly and she was floating down stream, stern foremost!
"Oh, dear me! I wish I had a pair of oars. Then I could manage this thing," she told herself.
Then the boat scraped upon a rock. The blow was a glancing one, but it drove the craft around again. She was glad, however, to see the bow aimed properly.
From moment to moment the boat now moved more swiftly. It seemed that the foam-streaked water tore at its sides as though desiring to swamp it. Helen sat very quietly in the middle seat, and watched the dimpling, eddying stream with increasing anxiety.
Suddenly the punt darted shoreward. It looked just as though it must be cast upon the beach. Helen raised herself stiffly, seized the pole more firmly, and prepared to leap ashore with its aid.
And just as she was about to risk the feat, the bow of the boat whirled outward again, she wasalmost cast into the water, and once more the boat whirled down the middle current.
She dropped back into her seat with a gasp. This was terrible! She could not possibly control the craft in the rapids, and she was traveling faster and faster.
The boat came to another eddy, and was whirled around and around, so swiftly, that Helen's poor head swam, too! She raised her voice in a cry for help, but it was likewise a cry of despair. She had no idea that there was a soul within the sound of her voice.
Crash! the boat went against an outcropping rock. It spun around again and darted down the current. It was leaking now; the water poured into it between the sprung planks.
The river widened suddenly into a great pool, fringed with trees. At one point a rock was out-thrust into the river and Helen saw—dimly enough at first—a figure spring into view upon this boulder.
"Help! help!" shrieked the girl, as the boat spun about.
"Hi! catch that!"
It was dear old Tom's voice! The shout brought hope to Helen's heart.
"Oh, Tom! Tom!" she cried. "Save me!"
"Bet you I will!" returned the boy. "Just grab this rope——Now!"
She saw the loop come hurtling through the air. Tom had learned how to properly throw a lariat the summer before, while in Montana, and he and his particular chums had practised the art assiduously ever since that time.
Now, at his second trial, he dropped the noose right across the punt. Helen seized upon it.
"Hitch it to the ring in the bow—quick!" commanded her brother, and Helen obeyed.
In five minutes he had her ashore, but the punt sunk in shallow water.
"I don't care! I don't care!" cried Helen, wading through the shallow water. "I really thought I was going to drown, Tommy boy."
"But where's Ruth? Whatever have you girls been doing since last evening? Where did you go to?"
He held her in his arms for a moment and hugged her tightly. Helen sobbed a little, with her face against his shoulder.
"Oh! it's so-o good to have you again, Tommy," she declared.
Then she told him swiftly all that had happened. Tom was mighty glad to get his sister back, but he was vastly worried about her chum.
"That's what I feared. I had a feeling that you girls had fallen into the hands of those Gypsies. Those men in the old house were two of them——"
"I know it. We saw them at the encampment."
"But if Ruth is still with them," Tom said, "Peck will get her. He said he knew how to handle Gyps. He's been used to them all his life. And this tribe often come through this region, he told me."
"Who is Mr. Peck?" asked Helen, puzzled.
Tom told her of his adventures on the previous night. After returning to the spot where the auto had been stalled earlier in the evening, Tom and the constable had searched with the lanterns all about the place, and had followed the footsteps of the girls and the strange woman to the lower road.
"I had no idea then that the wagon you had evidently gotten into was a Gypsy cart," pursued Tom. "We saw you'd gone on toward Severn Corners, however, and we went back. But you come along with me, now, Helen, and we'll return to that very place. I expect Uncle Ike will be waiting for us. I telephoned him before daylight this morning—and it's now ten o'clock. The car is right back here on the road."
"Oh! I am so glad!"
"Yes. Soon after breakfast Peck and I separated! I came this way in the car, hoping to find some trace of you. Peck made inquiries and said he'd follow the Gyps. Ruth will be taken awayfrom them," declared Tom, with conviction. "That big smith isn't afraid of anybody."
"Oh, I hope so," said Helen. "But that horrible old Gypsy—the queen, she calls herself—is very powerful."
"Not much she isn't!" laughed Tom. "Peck fully feels the importance of that star he wears. I think he would tackle a herd of elephants, if they were breaking the law."
So they sped on in the motor-car, feeling considerably better. The twins were very fond of each other, and were never really happy, when they were apart for long.
But when they ran down into Severn Corners, expecting to find Ruth at the constable's house, they were gravely disappointed. The forge was open and Sim Peck was shoeing a horse. He stood up, hammer in hand, when the motor-car stopped before the smithy.
"Hello!" he said to Tom. "Did you get her?"
"I got my sister. She's had an awful time. Those Gypsies ought to be all shut up in jail," said Tom, vigorously.
"Them 'Gyptians?" drawled Peck, in surprise. "What they got ter do with it?"
"Why, they had everything to do with it. Don't you know that they carried off both my sister here and Ruth Fielding?"
"Look here," said the blacksmith-constable, slowly, "let me understand this. Your sister has been with the 'Gyptians?"
"Yes. Didn't you find Ruth with them?"
"Wait a minute. Was she with old Zelaya's tribe?"
"Yes," cried Helen. "That is the name of the Gypsy queen."
"And the other gal?" demanded the man. "Where is she?"
"That's what I ask you," said Tom, anxiously. "My sister escaped from them, but they recaptured the other girl."
"Sure o' that?" he demanded.
"Yes, I am!" cried Helen. "I saw them drag her back through the woods to the encampment."
"When was this?"
"Not far from six o'clock this morning."
"By gravey!" ejaculated the man. "She ain't with 'em now. I been all through them vans, and seen the whole tribe. There ain't a white gal with 'em," said Mr. Peck, with confidence.
CHAPTER XVITHROUGH THE NIGHT AND THE STORM
Ruth did not really know what to think of Roberto, the Gypsy boy.
His push, as he passed her, had been most rude, but his whispered words seemed a promise of friendship. He did not look at her again, as he went around the encampment. Roberto seemed a privileged character, and it was not hard to guess that he was Queen Zelaya's favorite grandchild.
As for the prisoner, she was scarcely spoken to by anybody. She was not abused, but she felt her position keenly. Particularly was she ashamed of her appearance—barefooted, bareheaded, and stained until she seemed as dark as the Gypsy girls themselves. Ruth thought she looked altogether hateful!
"I really would be ashamed to have Tom Cameron see me now," she thought.
Yet she would have been delighted indeed to see Tom! It was in her chum's twin brother that she hoped, after all, for escape.
For Roberto, the Gypsy, ignored her completely.She feared that his whispered words to her, when he first entered the camp, had meant nothing after all. Why should she expect him to be different from his tribesmen?
The Gypsies fed her well and allowed her to wander about the camp as she pleased. There were two sentinels set to watch the northern and southern shores of the lake. Nobody could approach the island without being observed and warning given to the camp.
Ruth had lost hope of anybody coming to the encampment in search of her, for the present. The constable had doubtless been sent by Tom Cameron, and he would report that there was nobody but Gypsies in the camp. Nobody but her immediate friends would distinguish Ruth from a Gypsy now.
If Helen had found Tom, the situation could not be changed much for Ruth—and the latter realized that. Mr. Cameron and Uncle Jabez would have to be communicated with, before a general alarm could be sent out and detectives put on the case.
By that time, where would the girl from the Red Mill be?
This question was no easy one to answer. Ruth did not believe the Gypsies would remain on this island for any length of time. Queen Zelaya was doubtless shrewd enough to plan a long jump next time, and so throw off pursuit.
Indeed, all the next day the girl could do little but worry about her own situation, and about Helen's fate. The last she had seen of her chum, she had been drifting out into the middle of this lake. Suppose the punt had sprung a leak, or capsized?
Clouds gathered that day, and the second evening on the island closed with a steady, fine rain falling. The encampment was quiet early. Even the dogs found shelter from the wet, but Ruth had every reason to believe that the Gypsy men took turns in guarding the encampment.
Ruth was made to sleep in Queen Zelaya's van, and as soon as it had become real dark, the old woman made her enter. In her rags of clothing, Ruth was not afraid of a little rain—surely she had on nothing that would be spoiled by the wet; but she had to obey the old hag.
At supper time Roberto brought the bowls of savory stew that usually made up that meal for the Gypsies. There were three bowls on the tray and the boy gave Ruth a sharp side glance and pointed to a certain bowl. She dared not refuse to take it.
When he approached his grandmother at the other end of the van, he removed his own bowl before setting the tray upon the box beside her. Ruth hesitated to eat her own portion; she had been afraid of being drugged from the beginning.
Yet, somehow, she could not help feeling confidencein Roberto. The latter ate his supper with gusto, talking all the while with the old woman. But he went away without a word or look at Ruth after the meal.
Soon Zelaya made her go to bed. Ruth was not sleepy, but she appeared to go to sleep almost at once, as she had before. She lay down in all the clothing she wore, for she was apprehensive of something happening on this night. She saw that the old woman was very drowsy herself.
Appearing to sleep, Ruth waited and watched. The storm whined in the trees of the island, but there was no other noise.
Zelaya was at the locked box again, and she soon drew forth her treasure-casket. She fondled the collar of pearls as she had on the first night Ruth had slept in the van.
The girl was watching for that evil face at the window again. For a moment she thought she saw it, but then she recognized that it was Roberto's handsome face against the wet pane.
Suddenly Ruth realized that the old woman had fallen asleep over her box of valuables. The girl was confident that there had been a drugged bowl at supper time, butshehad not eaten of it.
There was a little noise at the door—ever so slight. The handle turned, and Roberto's head was thrust in. He nodded at Ruth as though he were sure she was not asleep, and then creeping up the steps, he gazed at his grandmother.
There could be no doubt that she was sound asleep! He slipped in and closed the door. At first he did not say a word to Ruth.
He went to Zelaya's side and shook her lightly. She did not awake. As though she were a child, the strong youth lifted her and placed her in the bed. Then he locked the small box, put the key again around Zelaya's neck, and lowered the treasure box into the chest. The padlock of this he snapped and then turned cheerfully to the watchful Ruth.
"Come!" he whispered. "Missy not afraid of Roberto? Come!"
No. Ruth wasnotafraid of him. She rose quickly and preceded him, as he directed by a gesture, out of the door of the van. There was neither light nor sound in the whole camp.
Once they were free, Roberto seized the girl's hand and led her through the darkness and the rain. Ruth's tender feet stumbled painfully over the rough ground, but the boy was not impatient.
He seemed to know his way in the dark by instinct. Certainly, Ruth could scarcely see her hand before her face!
However, it was not long before she realized that they had come out upon the shore of the island. There was a vast, empty-looking place before them, which Ruth knew must be the open lake.
Where the sentinels had gone, she could notguess, unless Roberto had managed to drugthem, too!
However, there was not a word said, save when Roberto led her down, to the water and she felt it lave her feet. Then he muttered, in a low tone:
"Don't fear, little Missy."
As they waded deeper and deeper into the lake, following as she supposed the track by which the wagons had come to the island, Ruthwasmore than a little frightened. Yet she would not show Roberto it was so.
Once she whispered to him: "I can swim, Roberto."
"Good! But I will carry you," and he suddenly stooped, slung her across his shoulder as though she had been a feather-weight, and marched on through the water.
It was plain that the Gypsy boy knew this ford better than the drivers of the vans, for he found no spot that he could not wade through and carry Ruth, as well. It was nearly an hour before they reached the land.
The rain beat upon them and the wind soughed in the trees. It seemed to get darker and darker, yet Roberto never hesitated for direction, and setting Ruth down upon her own feet, helped her on till they came to a well-traveled road.
Not far ahead was a light. Ruth knew at oncethat it was a lamp shining through the windows of some farmhouse kitchen.
"There they will take you in," Roberto said. "They are kind people. I am sorry I could not bring away your own clothes and your bag. But it could not be, Missy."
"Oh! you have been so good to me, Roberto!" she cried, seizing both of his hands. "However can I thank you—or repay you?"
"Don't be too hard on Gypsy—on my old grandmother. She is old and she is a miser. She thought she could make your friends pay her money. But now we will all leave here in the morning and you shall never be troubled by us again."
"I will do nothing to punish her, Roberto," promised Ruth. "But I hope I shall see you at the Red Mill some time."
"Perhaps—who knows?" returned the youth, with a smile that she could see in the dark, his teeth were so white. "Now run to the door and knock. When I see it opened and you go in, I will return."
Ruth Fielding did as she was bidden. She entered the gate, mounted the porch, and rapped upon the kitchen door. The moment she looked into the motherly face of the woman who answered her knock, the girl knew that her troubles were over.