“Well, I’m alive all right,” said Clarence, and, as Ben freed him from an iron grasp, proceeded to rub his eyes.
Pete, who had just brought the horses to the wagon, where his two older sons took them in charge, came running over, snarling like a wildcat, and seizing the boy by both shoulders shook him without mercy. How long the punishment would have lasted, had it depended upon Pete, is problematic; for Clarence, now thoroughly awakened, cleverly slipped down to the ground and sprang between the Gypsy leader’s legs. As he did so, he thoughtfully humped himself in transit, with the result that Pete measured his length on the earth.
“I wish,” gasped Clarence, “that you’d tell me what you want. I’m not a deaf mute.”
Pete sprang for a stick in the bushes; but before he had quite made up his mind which to choose, Ben whispered remonstratingly in his ear. Ben was angry and determined. Bestowing a look of strong disfavor on Clarence, Pete gave an order of some kind to his company, who at once proceeded to break up camp.
“You go and help Dora,” said Ben.
“Good morning, Clarence. How do you feel?” asked the child with a smile and the extended hand of welcome. The roses of dawn were upon her cheeks.
“Feel! I’m sleepy. Why, it is hardly daylight.”
“We always travel early in the morning; it is cooler, and there are not so many people about. Towards noon we camp in some quiet place, generally by the river side; and then about four we go on, again, and keep on going sometimes till it’s too dark to see. Come on now, Clarence; we’ve got to work fast, or Pete will be down on us.”
Under Dora’s direction, Clarence made himself quite useful. He was quick and intelligent. The two had their share of the work finished several minutes before the others.
“Where are we going?” asked Clarence.