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 old hag, 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.
"And that is 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."