The Corner House Girls Among the Gypsies Part 32

"Not much I won't! Don't you think it," cried Sammy. "But you might get my fis.h.i.+ng tackle and jointed pole and sneak 'em out to me.

There's good kids!"

"We will do nothing sneaky for you at all, Sammy Pinkney!" exclaimed Tess indignantly.

"Aw, go on! You can just as easy."

"We can, but we won't. So there! And if you don't go home with us when the man takes us back in his car we certainly will tell where you are."

"Be a telltale. _I_ don't care," cried Sammy, roughly. "And I won't say just where we are going from here, so you needn't think my folks will find me."

One of the closed vans--something like a moving van only with windows in the sides, a stove-pipe sticking out of the roof, and a door at the rear, with steps--seemed now to be ready to start. A man climbed into the front seat to drive it. Several women and smaller children got in at the rear after the various bales and packages that had been tossed in. The big man suddenly shouted and beckoned to Tess and Dot.

"Here, little ladies," he said, still smiling his wide smile. "You come go wit' my mudder, eh? Take you to find the Gypsy women you want to see."

"But--er--Mr. Gypsy," said Tess, somewhat disturbed now, "we must go back home."

"Sure. Tak' you home soon as you see those women and give them what you got for them."

He strode across the camp to them. His smile was quite as wide, but did not seem to forecast as much good-nature as at first.

"Come now! Get in!" he commanded.

"Hey!" cried Sammy. "What you doing? Those little girls are friends of mine. You want to let them ride in that open car--not in that box. What d'you think we are?"

"Get out the way, boy!" commanded Big Jim.

He seized Tess suddenly by the shoulders, swung her up bodily despite her screams and tossed her through the rear door of the Gypsy van. Dot followed so quickly that she could scarcely utter a frightened gasp.

"Hey! Stop that! Those are the Kenway girls. Why! Mr. Howbridge will come after them and he'll--he'll--"

Sammy's excited threat was stopped in his throat. Big Jim's huge hand caught the boy a heavy blow upon the side of his head. The next moment he was shot into the motor-van too and the door was shut.

He heard Tess and Dot sobbing somewhere among the women and children already crowded into the van. It was a stuffy place, for none of the windows were open. Although this nomadic people lived mostly out of doors, and never under a real roof if they could help it, they did not seem to mind the smothering atmosphere of the van which now, with a sudden lurch, started out of the place of encampment.

"Never you mind, Tess and Dot, they won't dare carry you far. Maybe they are taking you home anyway," said Sammy in a low voice. "The first time they stop and let us out we'll run away. I will get you home all right."

"You--you can't get yourself home, Sammy," sobbed Dot.

"Maybe you like it being a Gypsy, but we don't," added Tess.

"I'll fix it for you all right--"

One of the old crones reached out in the semi-darkness and slapped Sammy across the mouth.

"Shut up!" she commanded harshly. But when she tried to slap the boy again she screamed. It must be confessed that Sammy bit her!

"You lemme alone," snarled the boy captive. "And don't you hit those girls. If you do I--I'll bite the whole lot of you!"

The women jabbered a good deal together in their own tongue; but n.o.body tried to interfere with Sammy thereafter. He shoved his way into the van until he stood beside Tess and Dot.

"Let's not cry about it," he whispered. "That won't get us anywhere, that is sure. But the very first chance we get--"

No chance for escape however was likely to arise while the Gypsy troop were en route. The children could hear the rumble of the vans behind.

Soon Big Jim in his touring car pa.s.sed this first van and shouted to the driver. Then the procession settled into a steady rate of speed and the three little captives had not the least idea in which direction they were headed nor where they were bound.

Back at the old Corner House affairs were in a terrible state of confusion. Linda had returned from her voyage among the neighbors with absolutely no news of the smaller girls. And Agnes had discovered that the silver bracelet was missing.

"It was Tess's day for wearing it, but she did not have it on when she went out to play," the older sister explained. "Do you suppose the house has been robbed, Neale O'Neil?"

Neale had been examining closely the piece of paper that Agnes had found stuck to the plate on which she had fed the beggar girl the day before and also the note Mrs. McCall had received purporting to come from Mr. Howbridge's butler. Both were written in blue pencil, and by the same hand without any doubt.

"It's a plot clear enough. And naturally we may believe that it was not hatched by that Miguel Costello, the junkman. It looks as though it was done by Big Jim's crowd."

"But what have they done with the bairns?" demanded the housekeeper, in horror.

"Oh, Neale! have they stolen Tess and Dot, as well as the silver bracelet?" was Agnes' bitter cry.

"Got me. Don't know," muttered the boy. "And what would they want the children for, anyway?"

"Let us find out if any Gypsies have been seen about the house this afternoon," Agnes proposed. "You see, Neale. Don't send Linda."

Linda, indeed, was in a hopeless state. She didn't know, declared Mrs.

McCall, whether she was on her head or her heels!

Neale ran out and searched the neighborhood over. When he came back he had found n.o.body who had set eyes on any Gypsies; but he had heard from Mrs. Pease that Gypsies were camped out of town. The store man had told her so.

"Oh!" gasped Agnes, suddenly remembering. "I heard about that. Mrs.

Pinkney told me. They are on the Buckshot Road, out beyond where Carrie Poole lives. You know, Neale."

"Sure I know where the Poole place is," admitted Neale. "We have all been there often enough. And I can get the car--"

"Do! Do!" begged Mrs. McCall. "You cannot go too quickly, Neale O'Neil. And take the police wi' ye, laddie!"

"Take me with you, Neale!" commanded Agnes. "We can find a constable out that way if we need one. I know Mr. Ben Stryker who lives just beyond the Pooles. And he is a constable, for he stopped the car once when I was driving and said he would have to arrest me if I did not drive slower."

"Sure!" said Neale. "Agnes knows all the traffic cops on the route, I bet. But we don't _know_ that the children have gone with the Gypsies."

"And we never will know if you stand here and argue. Anyway, it looks as though the silver bracelet has been stolen by them."

"Or by somebody," granted the boy.

"Ne'er mind the bit bracelet," commanded the housekeeper. "Find Tess and Dot. I am going to put on my bonnet and shawl and go to the police station mysel'. Do you children hurry away in the car as you promised."

It was already supper time, but n.o.body thought of that meal, unless it was Aunt Sarah. When she came down to see what the matter was--why the evening meal was so delayed--she found Linda sobbing with her ap.r.o.n over her head in the kitchen and the tea kettle boiled completely dry.

That was nothing, however, to the condition of affairs at one o'clock that night when Ruth, with Luke and Cecile Shepard, arrived at the old Corner House. They had been delayed at the station half an hour while Ruth telephoned for and obtained a comfortable touring car for her visitors and herself. Agnes did not have to beg her older sister to put in a telephone. After this experience Ruth was determined to do just that.