But the others were whispering eagerly. They were bending down and didn’t answer.
“It’s a patrin. It must be a real one. A bundle of sticks pointing this way,” said Mona at last. “Rene says she is sure she saw more of it farther back, but she thought it was some of Eve’s ‘sign.’ Well, this can’t be, I’m certain. It must be the patrin of some gipsies on the moor.”
Gerry and Betty hung eagerly over the “sign.”
There was no doubt of it. A little bundle of rushes still fresh and green lay there.
“And close to the moor path,” shouted Mona. “It was flung here from a passing caravan. There are marks of the wheels too, and the horse’s feet.”
“I say,” Gerry called after them, “you’re leaving the ridge.”
But the excitement was by this time intense. Mona and Rene were wild with eagerness.
“We’ll have to. We’re going to follow. Suppose they’ve got the Cup! Sybil said to come back in an hour, and it’s not half an hour yet. If you’ll come along we can all go together, and be back by the time the others do. If we run back to ask leave, she’ll probably not be there; and we shall never catch up with the caravan.”
“But what are you going to do? And why should they have the Cup?” demanded Gerry. “And besides, it’s a practice; and we’ve got Eve’s ‘sign’ to follow.”
“‘Why?’ It’s more than likely that they’ve got it,” almost stamped Mona. “And if you don’t care about the Cup, Rene and I do! I must say, after last night, any one would think that you two——”