The horses were again unyoked, the bear dragged from its lair, and arrangements put in train for the night. After a scanty supper of scraps and fragments—for by this time the store in the larder was at low ebb—having charged Bambo and Tonio with threats and strong words to look well after the children on peril of their lives, and on no account to allow them out of the van, Joe and Moll dressed themselves in their best, and set off to look up some old friends and spend a pleasant evening in the town.
No sooner were they safely out of the way than Tonio slyly disappeared—following, doubtless, the example set him by his master and mistress—possessing no more sense of responsibility to restrain his movements than a kitten or a butterfly. Thus the dwarf found himself, greatly to his satisfaction and delight, left in sole charge of the captives and the encampment.
The first faint light of the misty October morning was spreading up slowly from the east, the delicate hoar frost of autumn was lying like a filmy veil of silvery gossamer over the furze bushes and rough grass around the camping-place, before the pair of pleasure-seekers returned. By that time, however, Tonio was sleeping soundly beside the piebalds in shelter of a tumble-down wall, with the monkey curled closely in against his dusky breast. Joe and Moll were stupid, tired, and decidedly out of sorts, as people are wont to be after a surfeit of enjoyment and a scant supply of sleep. Bruno growled as usual at being disturbed, and clanked his chain as if in remonstrance; from behind the wall the uneasy fidgeting of the hungry horses could be plainly heard; while Tonio's noisy snoring rose and fell upon the still, damp air with rhythmical regularity. But over the old yellow caravan a curious and suspicious silence reigned; not a sound was to be heard within its wooden walls, not a glimmer of light came through its curtained panes.
Joe muttered an ugly word, roughly threw open the door, struck a match, lighted the lamp and peered about him. Bambo's usual shakedown was deserted; the pallet where the children should have been was unoccupied. The place was empty; the prisoners had escaped—under the guidance of the dwarf undoubtedly, many hours before, probably.
Behind her husband's back Moll executed a sort of breakdown dance, so great was her satisfaction at the unexpected way in which her wishes had been carried out. But the disappointment and wrath of Joe over this sudden overthrow of his schemes were deep and furious.
CHAPTER XII.
FOLLOWED BY THE ENEMY.
"What will the fishers do,
When at the break of day
They seek the pretty boats they left
Moored in the quiet bay?
They seek the pretty boats,
And find that they are fled;
Alas! what will the fishers do?
How can they earn their bread?"