“It must be the gypsies,” said Roger, when he had an opportunity to speak. “I can’t think of anything else.”
“The gypsies certainly promised to make trouble for them,” answered Dave bitterly. “But to go so far as kidnapping——Why, Roger! that’s a terrible crime in these days!”
“I know it. But don’t you remember what they wrote about the gypsies—how that Mother Domoza and the others were so very bitter because they had to give up their camp on the outskirts of Crumville? More than likely your Uncle Dunston, and Mr. Basswood, and Mr. Wadsworth, didn’t treat them any too gently, and they resented it. Oh, it must be those gypsies who have done this!” concluded the senator’s son.
When they arrived at the construction camp, they found that most of the men had gone to bed. But there was a light burning in the cabin occupied by Ralph Obray and several of the others, and they discovered the manager studying a blue-print and putting down a mass of figures on a sheet of paper.
“What do you want?” questioned the manager, as he noted their excited appearance. “Have you struck more bears?”
“No, Mr. Obray. It’s a good deal worse than that,” returned Dave, in a tone of voice he tried to steady. “We’ve got bad news from home.”
“You don’t say, Porter! What is it? I hope none of your relatives has died.”
“My sister is missing from home, and so is the daughter of the lady and gentleman with whom my family live,” announced our hero. And then he and Roger went into a number of particulars, to which the construction camp manager listened with much interest.
“That certainly is a strange state of affairs,” he declared. “But I don’t see what you can do about it.”
“I can’t stick here at work with my sister and Jessie Wadsworth missing,” declared Dave boldly. “I’ve come to ask you to give me a leave of absence. I want to take the very first train for home.”