“And chase you with bloodhounds if you try to get away,” spoke Nellie, unguardedly.
It was an unfortunate remark. The woman must have heard it. She turned and spoke to the men again. They rose and stood ready to oppose the departure of the girls of Central High.
Even Laura and Eve felt their courage waver at this. The latter knew that there were no farms near—no inhabited dwellings. The nearest family must be at least two miles away. And this road was lonely at best—and this time of year, when the farmers were just beginning to get their plows into the ground, everybody was busy and there would not be much driving on any of the ridge roads.
“What can we do?” moaned Dorothy Lockwood.
“Will they dare keep us here, Eve?” demanded her twin.
At this strained point in the proceedings there was a sudden excitement among the Gypsies. One of the men started up the road in an easterly direction. The girls looked in some worriment of mind to see what was to happen.
“They’ve caught the girl!” muttered Jess.
“No, But the dog’s coming back,” said Laura.
There appeared almost at once the three men who had hunted with the bloodhound—and the hound himself. He was more ferocious-looking close to than at a distance. The six girls shrank together when he passed them, his great dewlaps slobbering and dripping, and his red eyes glancing sullenly from side to side.
The Gypsies laughed when they saw fear so plainly displayed in the countenances of the six girls. The bloodhound was fastened to one of the wagon wheels, and then the Romany folk paid no particular attention to their visitors.