“That was my idea,” said Father Keenan. “I thought you were interested in the girl. But of course, if you don’t care for any more adventures——”
“Oh, Father, I take it back. I’d lose an arm or a leg—I’d lose anything to save that poor little child from the hands of Pete.”
“Ah!” said the Rector, “you really don’t know what you want sometimes. Now, boys, there’s a machine awaiting us at the side of this house, and if you would like to go, Rieler——”
“Like it! I’d not miss it for ten years of my life,” cried Rieler, ecstatically.
“And you, Will Benton? We may need your strong arm.”
“Father Rector, I consider this invitation the greatest privilege you’ve ever granted me, and goodness knows you’ve been giving me every favor you could since I came to Campion. Clarence has told me a good deal about that little girl-saint, and I’d do anything to save her.”
The four knights-errant had by this time taken their places in the automobile. Father Keenan gave the chauffeur a few words of instruction, and with a speed exceeding the limit allowed in any known State, county, city, or village of the United States the machine shot down Minnesota Avenue.
“Now, listen, boys,” said Father Keenan, as they swept past the Bohemian Catholic Church. “Yesterday, I got the local station agent, who is a very good friend of mine, to make inquiries northward about any gypsies who might be seen. Just a few minutes ago he sent me word that a message had come from Lynxville, to the effect that a party of gypsies had camped three miles below that village.”
“What time did he get the message?” asked Clarence.
“Just at a quarter past two,” said the Rector, “and he sent the news within fifteen minutes of the gypsies’ arrival there. A friend of his happened to be automobiling, saw the gypsies pitch tent, and hurried at once to let him know.”