"Oh, Peggy, it's the proudest moment of my life!" cried Jimsy, as a shouting, excited crowd surrounded the aëroplane in which Peggy still sat, feeling dazed and a little dizzy.
"Oh, you wonderful girl!" cried out Bess, half laughing and half crying; "gracious, what an exciting finish. I thought I'd go wild when it looked as if you weren't going to win."
They helped her from the aëroplane while policemen pushed the crowd back. Somebody brought a tray with steaming hot tea and crackers on it. But Peggy could not eat. She felt faint and dreamy.
"Brace up!" urged Jimsy.
"I'll be all right in a minute. It's the strain of those last few minutes. I never thought I'd win."
"And I never doubted it," declared Jess stoutly.
"I wonder where Roy is?" asked Peggy anxiously, as they entered a box in the grandstand where they could be secluded from the shoving, curious, staring crowd.
"Don't know; but he's all right, depend upon it," said Jimsy cheerfully; "hello, what's that coming now?"
"It's a homing aëroplane."
Then, a minute later:
"It's Roy. Look at him come. I didn't think theRed Dragoncould go as fast."
Roy it was, sure enough. He was coming at a pace that might have landed him as winner of the race if he had not been delayed by his errand of mercy.
Ten minutes later he had joined them. First he explained what had happened to the judges of the course. Kelly, crest-fallen and wretched-looking, thanked him half heartedly for what he had done and said that he would care for Speedwell till he got better, which, by the way, was a promise that he did not perform.
A sudden stir in the crowd caused the little party in the box to look up.
A man was hastily chalking up some legend on the big black bulletin board. It ran thus:
Long-distance Race for $500 prize.Start of Flight—11:01:2.Finish of Flight—12:02:0.Maximum Height—1,500 feet.Wind Velocity—10 miles from southeast.Winner—Golden Butterfly.Winning Aviator—Miss Margaret Prescott.
What a cheer went up then. It seemed as if the roof would be raised off the grandstand by it.
"It's like a dream!" sighed Peggy, "just like a dream."
"Now, don't get fainty, Peggy, or Miss Margaret Prescott," admonished Jess; "as Jimsy says, 'brace up,' the best is yet to come."
A man came up to where they were sitting. In his hand he had a slip of pink paper.
Roy reached out for it, but the man said that he had instructions to hand it only to Peggy.
"It's the check for the prize-winning money," he explained.
Peggy took it and sat gazing at it for a minute.
"Oh, Peggy, what are you going to do with it?" asked Bess. "Buy some dresses or hats or——"
"None of those things," said Peggy; "I made up my mind before I went into the race as to what I would do with the money if I won."
"And what's that?" asked Miss Prescott.
"Why, it must go toward The Wren's education," rejoined the girl.
"Oh, Peggy, you darling!" cried Jess, flinging her arms round her chum, in full view of the grandstand and the crowd below.
As for The Wren, she gazed up at the girl with wide-open brown eyes.
"You are too good to me—too good," she said simply; but there was a plaintive quiver in her voice.
Mr. James Parker sat on the porch of his home, in the foothills of the Big Smokies, gazing out over the landscape. Seemingly he was watching for something.
"He done watch de sky lak he 'spected de bottom drap clean out uv it pretty soon," said Uncle Jupe, his factotum, to his wife Mandy.
"'Gwan, you fool nigger, don' you know dat dem flying boys an' gals is to be hayr ter-day?"
"Oh, dat's jes a joke, dat is," rejoined Uncle Jupe; "how's they all goin' ter fly ah'd lak to know."
"I don' know, but dat's what Marse Parker says."
"Den he's been grocersly imposed upon by somebody. Ain't likely dat ef de Lawd had meant us ter fly he'd have give us wings, wouldn't he?"
"Go 'long, now, Don' flossyfying roun' hyar. You git out an' hoe dat cohn. Look libely, now. You git it done fo' dinner or dere'll be trouble."
Uncle Jupe shuffled out of the kitchen, but in a minute he came rushing back.
"Wha' de matter?" demanded his wife, noticing his wildly staring eyes and open mouth; "you gone fool crazy?"
"M-m-m-m-mandy, it's true! It's true!" gasped Uncle Jupe.
"Wha's true,—dat you all's crazy?"
"Yes—no, it's 'bout dem flyin' things. Dey's comin'. Come and look wid your own eyes."
Mandy shuffled out. There, sure enough, coming toward them, was a flock of what at first sight appeared to be immense birds. But it was the young sky cruisers nearing their destination.
On the porch Mr. Parker stood up and waved his newspaper. Ten minutes later the aëroplanes came to earth in the smooth front lawn, while Uncle Jupe restrained a strong inclination to run away.
"Dey ain't canny, dem things," he declared; "ef de Lord had wanted us to fly he'd have given us wings, I guess.
"Yes, sir, he'd sure have given us wings des de same as angels hev," he repeated musingly.
"This is a beautiful country, sis."
"Yes, indeed," agreed Peggy warmly.
The two were flying high above the romantic scenery of the Big Smoke Mountains of North Carolina in theGolden Butterfly. Beneath them lay a wild-looking expanse of country,—peaks, deep cañons and cliffs heavily wooded and here and there bare patches cropping out.
"Let's drop down on one of those patches and do some exploring," suggested Peggy.
"All right," agreed Roy, nothing loath. TheGolden Butterflywas headed downward.
In a few minutes they landed on a smooth spot surrounded by trees. Leaving the aëroplane, they struck off on a path through the woods. "Wonder if we can't find some huckleberries hereabouts," suggested Roy.
"Oh, yes, lots. Wouldn't it be dandy to take home a bucketful by aëroplane!"
"There's a little hut off yonder, maybe we could get a bucket or something there."
"Let's see if there are any berries first," said the practical Peggy.
From out of the hut shuffled an old woman. She was a wrinkled and hideous old hag, brown as a seasoned meerschaum pipe and in her mouth was a reeking corn cob.
Her feet were bare, and altogether she was a most repulsive old crone. She saw Roy and Peggy almost as soon as they saw her. For an instant she stood looking at them and then raised her voice in a sort of shrill shriek.
Instantly from the woods around several men appeared—wild-looking, bearded fellows, each of whom carried a rifle.
"What you alls want hyar?" demanded one who seemed to be the leader.
"We were just taking a walk," explained Roy.
"Wa'al, we all don't like strangers particlar."
"So it would seem," rejoined Roy, with a bold voice, although his heart was beating rather fast.
"How'd you alls get hyar?" was the next question from the inquisitor.
"We flew here," rejoined Roy truthfully.
But the man's face grew black with wrath.
"Don' you alls lie to me; it ain't healthy," he said.
"I'm not in the habit of doing so."
"But you said you flew hyar."
"Well, we did."
"See hyar, young stranger, you jes' tell me the truth 'bout how you came or by the eternal I'll make it hot fer you."
"I can only show you that I'm speaking nothing but the truth," rejoined the boy; "if you'll come with me I'll show you what we flew here in."
The man glanced at him suspiciously. It was plain that he feared a trap of some sort. His eyes were wild and shifty as a wolf's.
"Ain't you frum the guv-ment?" he asked.
"I don't know just what you mean."
"I reckin that's jus' more dum' lyin'."
"Thank you."
"Don' get sassy, young feller, it won't do you no good. But I'll come with you. Come on, boys, we'll take a look at this flyin' thing. I reckon that even if it is a trap there's enough of us to take care of a pack of them."
"That's right, Jeb," agreed the men.
Some of them, who had been hanging back in the bushes, now came forward. They were all as wild-looking as their leader, Jeb. The old woman mumbled and talked to herself as they strode off behind Roy and Peggy.
It was one of the strangest adventures of their lives and neither one of them could hit on any explanation of the hillmen's conduct.
It did not take long to reach the aëroplane, and Roy turned triumphantly to Jeb.
"Well," he said, "what do you think now?"
"Wa'al, it ain't flyin', is it?"
"Of course not, but I can make it."
"You kin?"
"Certainly."
"Flap its wings and all that like a burd?"
"No, it doesn't flap its wings."
"Then how kin it fly?" propounded Jeb.
A murmur of approval ran through the throng. Jeb's logic appealed to their primitive intellects.
"Nothing can't fly that don't flap its wings," said one of them.
"But if it didn't fly, how in tarnation did it git here?" asked an old man with a grizzled beard and blackened stumps of teeth projecting from shrunken gums.
This appeared to be a poser for even Jeb. He had nothing to say.
"If you like I'll give you a ride in it," proffered Roy to Jeb.
"All right; only no monkey tricks now."
"What do you mean?"
"Wa'al, in course I know it won't fly, but if it does you'll hev to let me out."
With this sage remark Jeb stepped gingerly into the chassis of the aëroplane. He sat down where he was told and Roy took the wheel. Jeb's companions gazed on in awed silence.
"Look out, Jeb," cried one.
"Don't hit the sky," yelled another.
"Bring me back a star," howled the facetious old man.
"Me a bit of the moon," called another.
Jeb said nothing to this raillery. Instead, he looked uneasily about him and held his rifle, which he had insisted on bringing with him, between his knees.
"All right?" asked Roy, looking back at him.
"As right as I ever will be," rejoined Jeb, with a rather sickly grin.
"You must hold tight," warned Peggy.
"I'm doing that," said Jeb.
And then with the same sickly grin:
"Say, miss, does it really fly?"
"Of course it does. As that old man said, how could it have got here if it didn't."
"I guess I'd better go home and git my coat," said Jeb, trying to climb out.
His demeanor had completely changed since he had climbed into the chassis. Something in its well-cushioned seats and the sight of the powerful engine and propeller seemed to have changed his mind about the capabilities of theGolden Butterfly.
But it was too late. With a roar the engine started. Instantly the little plateau was deserted. The mountaineers were all behind trees.
Jeb rushed for the side of the car.
"Sit down!" screeched Peggy, really fearing he would fall over.
But if Jeb's intention had been to climb out it was foiled.
'Take me back to earth er I'll shoot,' said a voice in his ear.
'Take me back to earth er I'll shoot,' said a voice in his ear.
"Wow!" he yelled, and again, "Wow-ow-ow! Lemme out."
"Too late now," shouted Roy.
The aëroplane shot upward, carrying as a passenger a man temporarily crazy from fright.
Suddenly Roy felt the muzzle of a rifle press against the back of his neck.
"Take me back to earth er I'll shoot," said a voice in his ear.
Roy obeyed, and so ended Jeb's first aëroplane ride. It may be added that it was also his last.
"It was a gang of moonshiners that you stumbled across," said Mr. Parker, when they told him of their adventure; "you were fortunate to escape as you did."
"I guess we have that aëroplane ride we gave to Jeb to thank for that," laughed Roy.
"It wasn't so laughable, though, when he pressed that rifle to your neck," declared Peggy.
"No, indeed. That was a mighty uncomfortable feeling, I can tell you."
"It reminds me of an experience I had with moonshiners once," said Mr. Parker. "Would you care to hear about it?"
Of course they would. They were sitting on the porch in the twilight after dinner. It was a happy group and they had been exploding with laughter over Roy's account of Jeb's ride.
"It was a good many years ago, when I was in the employ of the government," said Mr. Parker, "that what I am going to tell you about happened. I was a young fellow then, and a good bit of a dare-devil, so I was sent at the head of a body of men to rout out moonshiners.
"As you may know from your experience this morning, it is mighty dangerous to be suspected of being in the employ of the government, and so we posed as drummers and peddlers, scattering through the mountains.
"Each of us worked alone so as not to attract attention. Our job was merely to locate the illicit stills and then militia would be sent to raid and destroy them, and the vile stuff they concoct.
"I had been on the job about a week when I came one night to a desolate-looking little shack on a high mountainside. It did not look inviting, but I had to have shelter for the night, so I stepped to the door and knocked. A rather comely looking woman replied to my summons.
"'I'm a peddler,' I explained, 'could I get something to eat and a room here for the night?'
"She looked at me twice before answering.
"'What you tradin' in?' she asked, with a trace of suspicion.
"I judged from her manner that there was an illicit still in the neighborhood and that was what made her so suspicious.
"'Oh, laces, ribbons and so forth,' I replied.
"I showed her some samples.
"I'll give you breakfast, supper and a bed fer that bit of red ribbon,' she said.
"'I'll throw in this bit of blue,' said I gallantly.
"And so the bargain was struck. It was a small place, but neat and tidy. Two children were playing about and in a corner sat a man trying to read a month-old newspaper.
"Pop, this feller traded in these bits of ribbon fer bed and two meals,' she said, proudly exhibiting her goods and evidently thinking she had made an excellent bargain. I could see the gleam of triumph in her eye.
"'Humph!' grunted the man, 'much good those are.'
"Then he turned to me.
"'Peddler?' he asked.
"'Yes,' said I.
"'What you tradin' in?'
"'Oh, silks, laces and so forth,' rejoined I, repeating my formula.
"'Humph!'
"He looked at me, narrowing his eyes.
"'You don't look much like a peddler," said he.
"'No, I've seen better days,' I said, with a sigh.
"But I could see that he was still suspicious.
"'Where'd you come from?' was his next question.
"'South,' said I.
"'Where you going?'
"'North.'
"'Ain't much on conversation, be yer?' he asked.
"'No, I'm not considered a very talkative fellow,' I rejoined.
"We lapsed into silence. The man smoked. I just sat and thought the situation over. At last supper was announced. It was eaten almost in silence. The man discouraged all his wife's efforts at conversation. He was sullen and nervous.
"More than ever did I begin to suspect that there was a still in the immediate neighborhood. Soon after supper I pleaded fatigue and was shown up a flight of stairs, or rather a ladder, to a sort of attic. There was a husk mattress there, and a pile of rather dirty-looking blankets. But in those hills you learn to put up with what you can get. I was glad to have found shelter at all.
"But tired as I was for some reason I couldn't sleep. I felt a sort of vague uneasiness. I heard the man get up and go out and then later on I heard several voices downstairs.
"There were broad chinks in the floor, and through these I could look down. The men—there were four of them—were talking in low voices, but now and then I could catch a word. All of a sudden I heard one say something about government spy.
"That gave me a shock, I can tell you. I knew then they were talking about me. My predicament was a bad one if they suspected me. I began to look about me for a way to get out. While doing this I occasionally looked down below.
"The last time I looked I got a shock that made my hair stand. The fellows were moving about the room. From one corner one of them got a formidable-looking knife.
"Scared to death, I redoubled my efforts to find a way out. At last at one end of the room I found a chimney, one of those big stone affairs as big as all outdoors. I decided to try this.
"I found that it was rough inside, and I had not much difficulty in clambering up it. I was near the top when I heard a voice from the room below say:
"'Then we uns 'ull kill him right now.'
"'Yep, he's lived long enough. He's no good.'
"My heart jumped into my mouth. I redoubled my efforts and emerged from the top of the chimney. Reaching it, I lowered myself to the roof as gently as possible.
"The eaves came down low to the ground and I had not much difficulty in making my escape noiselessly."
"But as I reached the ground a startling thing happened. I missed my footing and found myself rolling down a steepish bank. At the bottom I fetched up against an odd-looking little hut almost overgrown with bushes. It was bright moonlight and the door was open.
"Inside was a fire, and by its light I could see that the place was empty of human life, but that a collection of objects already familiar to me almost filled it.
"It was an illicit still!
"Clearly enough, also, it was operated by my hosts up above.
"I listened for sounds of pursuit, but heard none. Possibly they had not yet crept into my room to perform their horrible resolve.
"Suddenly the silence was broken by appalling yells and screams. My hair bristled for an instant and then I burst into a laugh.
"It was a pig that I heard. At the same instant it dawned on me that it was the pig that they had been discussing dispatching and not me at all. You can imagine the revulsion of my feelings. But I felt sore at the scare they had given me, so I decided to do some work for the government and even up scores at the same time.
"Entering the shack, I scattered the coals of the fire right and left. Then I came away. No, I didnotgo back to the cabin. It would, as your friend Jeb said, not have been healthy for me.
"Instead I set off running at top speed through the woods. Before long I saw a glow on the sky behind me, and knew that flames were devouring the vile stuff that moonshiners make.
"I left my pack behind me, however, and I hope that compensated them for the loss of their still. I'm sure the woman, at any rate, would value its contents more highly."
They all burst into a laugh at the conclusion of Mr. Parker's odd story. They were still laughing when Mandy rushed out on the porch.
"Miss Wren done be gone!" she shouted.
"Gone!" they all echoed, in dismayed tones.
"Yes. I done go to her room to see de poo' lamb is com'foble, and she not there. I done find dis writin', too."
"Let me look at it," demanded Mr. Parker.
"It mighty hard to read. It sure is a scan-lous bit of writin'."
With this comment the colored woman handed over to her master a bit of dirty wrapping paper.
On it was scrawled in almost illegible characters:
"U wont git hur agin.—The Romanys."
"The Romanys!" exclaimed Peggy.
"Yes; that's the gipsy word for themselves," said Mr. Parker. "I'm afraid that the same band that had her before has stolen her again."
"What are we to do?" wailed Bess.
"Hush!" said Jess; "let Mr. Parker decide what is best."
They stood about with dismayed faces.
Miss Prescott was weeping softly. Peggy could hardly keep back her tears. The little brown Wren had become very dear to all of them. It was a hard blow indeed to lose her like this.
"But how could they know that she was here?" objected Jimsy.
"Why, that silly newspaper report that went out when you arrived here about your adventures on the way and the romantic rescue of Wren. If they had come across that it would have given them a clew."
"They were traveling south then, Wren said, and that was two weeks ago. They would have had ample time to reach this vicinity."
"That is so," rejoined Mr. Parker solemnly; "I'll make telephonic inquiries at once. They may have been seen in the vicinity."
"While you are doing that we'll examine the room. They may have left a clew there," said Roy.
Roy and Jimsy darted upstairs on this errand. On looking round the place it was clear enough how the abductors had gotten in. Outside the window was an extension roof. It would have been very easy for an active man such as gipsies usually are to have clambered in and out again without detection.
Taking a lantern they examined the ground outside. On a flower bed below the roof was the imprint of a man's feet.
"Notice anything peculiar about it?" asked Jimsy, for Roy was bending earnestly over the prints.
"Yes, I'd know that foot print again anywhere," he said; "see, one side of the man's boot was broken, the one of the right foot. His toes show here on the ground."
"That might be a good clew if it was daylight; but right now—"
Jimsy sighed. It was manifestly impossible to do any tracking of the man with the broken boot in the darkness.
"We'll have to wait till daylight."
"Yes, bother it all. They may be miles away by that time."
"I doubt it. I wouldn't wonder if they hide right around here. There are lots of good places, and they know that the hue and cry will be so hot that they would be caught if they traveled."
"That's so. Maybe we can find them, after all."
"Let's hope so. Well, we can do no more good here. Let's go in."
Peggy met them at the door. She seemed wildly excited over something.
"The mail rider's just been here," she exclaimed, "and listen to this letter. It's from a woman living near New York. She just got back from Europe and in an old newspaper she read an account of our sky cruise.
"She is certain that The Wren is her daughter and gives a description of her that tallies in every particular. She said that Wren was caught out in a heavy thunderstorm and sought refuge in a gipsy camp, as she learned afterward from a farmer who had seen her. She hunted high and low but has never since had word of the child. Her right name is Sylvia Harvey. Mrs. James Harvey is her mother, and she's rushing here as fast as a train will carry her."
"If it is really Sylvia Harvey then her mother has found her only to lose her again," sighed Jess.
"Don't say that," said Mr. Parker, coming into the room at that moment, "we'll leave no stone unturned to find her."
"Did you have any success with the telephone?"
"No; nobody has seen a band of people answering to the descriptions you gave of The Wren's abductors."
"Then we can do nothing more?"
The question came from Roy.
"Not to-night. It would be useless. I have notified all the police around and a general alarm will be sent out at once. And now I order every one to bed. We've hard work in front of us tomorrow."
About noon the next day Roy and Jimsy found themselves at the edge of a wild-looking section of country. They were standing at the entrance to a glen densely wooded with dark, forbidding-looking trees, and walled by precipitous and rugged rocks.
"Looks as if the trail ends here," said Jimsy disconsolately.
"It sure does. We can't——Gee, Whillikens!"
"What on earth is up now?"
"It's the broken-toed boot. Look here on the muddy bank of this little stream."
"By hooky, it is! We've struck the trail instead of ending it."
"What will we do; go back for reënforcements?"
"Not just yet. We'll reconnoiter a bit. See, the fellow went up this bank and—look there, Jimsy—there's a little footprint beside. He was dragging the child along."
With beating hearts the two boys entered the forbidding-looking glen. It was almost dark under the trees, which made the aspect of the place even more gloomy and desolate looking.
"This is a nice, cheerful sort of place," said Jimsy, in a low tone, as they walked along, following the bank of the stream, for the brush was too thick to admit of their walking anywhere else, which is what had driven the broken-booted man to leave a tell-tale trail behind him.
"I rather wish I had a gun," said Jimsy.
"We won't get close enough to them to need it," rejoined Roy; "we'll just spy out their hiding place and then go back for reënforcements."
"That's the best idea. I don't much fancy a hand-to-hand encounter with a band of such desperate ruffians as those gipsies have shown themselves to be."
"Don't be scared. We won't have any trouble if we're careful."
"I'm not scared; but if we did get in a tussle with them they could easily overpower us and then we'd have done more harm than good for they'd take fright and move right off."
"That's my idea. We'll be as cautious as mousing cats."
"Better stop talking, then. I never heard a mousing cat mi-ouw."
Cautiously they crept on. The trail still held good. At last they reached the head of the glen where a spring showed the source of the brook.
"What next?" whispered Jimsy.
"Let's see if we can find which way that fellow went. The ground is spongy all around here and—ah! this way! See it?"
Jimsy nodded. They struck off to the right, clambering over rocks till they reached the summit of a small hill. A tall dead tree stood there and Jimsy volunteered to climb it in order to spy out the surrounding country for traces of the gipsys. But on his return to the ground he was compelled to admit that they had gained nothing.
"I thought I might see some smoke that would give me a clew to their whereabouts," he explained.
"Not much chance of their being as foolish as that. I guess they know searching parties are out all over by this time, and they are too foxy to light fires."
"I might have thought of that," admitted Jimsy; "it would be about the last thing they would do. What will we do now?"
"I hardly know. Hello! there's an odd-looking place. Right over there. See that deep cañon? That one with the fallen tree across it?"
"Yes, I do now. Let's look over there."
"All right. You're on."
The two boys struck off in the direction of Roy's discovery. It was indeed an odd freak of nature. Some convulsion of the earth had detached quite a section of land from the surrounding country. It was, in fact, an island in the midst of the woods with only the fallen tree for a bridge.
"Let's cross it and examine the place," suggested Roy, with all a boy's curiosity.
Together they crossed the old tree, which had evidently fallen there by accident, although, in reality, it formed a perfect bridge. The "island" was thickly wooded and they pushed forward across it, not without some difficulty.
Suddenly they came upon a sight that made them halt dead in their tracks.
A man holding a rifle was sitting on a fallen log. The instant he saw them he raised his weapon.
"Don't come no further," he said.
"Why not?" demanded Roy indignantly.
"See that sign?" said the man.
He pointed to a rudely painted sign on a tree at his back.
"Dangir. No Trespasin."
That was what it said in bold letters that sprawled across its surface in an untidy fashion. The execution of the thing was as bad as its spelling.
"I guess a pretty sick man painted that sign," grinned Jimsy.
"What do you mean?" was the surly reply.
"Why, I should judge he was having an awful bad spell at the time," was the boy's rejoinder.
The man scowled at him fiercely.
"No joking round here," he growled; "now, then, if you know what's good for you you two kids will vamoose."
"What's the danger if we keep on?" asked Roy.
"Why, they're trying a new kind of explosive back there. It might go off the wrong way, your way, for instance, and hurt you," was the reply.
"Seems a funny sort of place to try out explosives," said Roy.
"Seems a queer sort of place for you two kids to come. Who are you, anyhow?"
"Oh, we are camping down below and we just came out for a stroll."
"Well, stroll some other place, then. Git away from round here."
"We certainly will," flashed back Roy; "come on, Jimsy."
As there seemed nothing else to do Jimsy agreed. They turned away and began retracing their steps, no wiser as to the whereabouts of the man with the broken boot than they had been when they set out.
Just as they turned to go, however, another man came out of the woods behind the man with the rifle. When he saw the boys he gave an abrupt start.
"Where did those boys come from?" he demanded.
"I don't know. Said they was two kids out campin' and takin' a stroll."
"Taking a stroll, eh?" said the other ferociously; "they were taking a stroll looking for that Wren."
"How do you know?"
"Because they are the same two kids who stole her from us just as we were going to demand a ransom for her."
"That was before I joined the band. No wonder I didn't know them; if I had——"
He scowled vindictively.
"Well, we can't let 'em get away. Here, give me that rifle," demanded the newcomer.
The other handed it to him. The next instant a report rang out and a bullet whizzed over the boys' heads.
"Come back here," shouted the man who had fired the shot; "I want to see you."
The boys hesitated for a minute.
"The next shot 'ull come lower if you don't," warned the man; "come on, no nonsense."
As there seemed to be nothing else to do the boys obeyed. As they drew closer they recognized the fellow.
"Oh, you know me, eh?" he snarled; "well, you'll know me better before we get through. Follow me, now. Pedro, you take the rifle and fall in behind. If they try to escape shoot them down."
Here was a fine situation. They had found the gipsies' camp with a vengeance, but for all the good it was going to do The Wren, unless they could get her away, they might as well not have come. These gloomy reflections sifted through their minds as they paced along, the man with the rifle occasionally prodding them with it just to make them "step lively," as he phrased it.
At length they came to a sort of large open place shaped like a basin, and placed in the middle of this natural island. In this basin were set up several squalid tents, about which the gipsies were squatting.
They set up a yell of surprise as the two boys were brought in.
"Where under the sun did you find them, Beppo?" exclaimed the same woman who had so cruelly ill-treated The Wren the time the boys rescued her.
"Oh, they were just taking a stroll, and happened to stroll in here," said Beppo viciously.
"I guess they won't have a chance to bother us again. They're going to make quite a stay here."
The gipsies set up a taunting laugh. Suddenly, from one of the tents, a tiny figure darted.
"Oh, I knew you'd come! I knew you'd come," it cried.
It was the poor little Wren. She had been stripped of her nice clothes and put into some filthy rags, her face was stained with crying and there was a bruise on her forehead.
With a curse Beppo seized the child by one arm, swung her round and dealt her a savage box on the ear.
"Get back where you belong!" he roared.
The next instant Beppo had measured his length on the ground and beneath one of his eyes a beautiful plum-colored swelling was developing. As has been said, Roy could hit a powerful blow.