“Can she hear us, ’way down there, Laura Belding?” asked Nellie Agnew, anxiously. “See here! Something’s chasing her—eh?”
The girl who had attracted their attention was quite unknown to any of the walking party. And she was, at first sight, an odd-looking person. She wore no hat, and her black hair streamed behind her in a wild tangle as she ran along the muddy road. She had a vivid yellow handkerchief tied loosely about her throat, and her skirt was green—a combination of colors bound to attract attention at a distance.
When the girls first saw this fugitive—for such she seemed to be—she was running from the thick covert of pine and spruce which masked the road to the west, and now she leaped upon the stone fence which bordered the upper edge of the highway as far as the spectators above could trace its course.
The stone wall was old, and broken in places. It must have offered very insecure footing; but the oddly dressed girl ran along it with the confidence of a chipmunk.
“Did you ever see anything like that?” gasped Bobby. “I’d like to have her balance.”
“And her feet!” agreed Jess, struggling to her knees the better to see the running girl.
“She’s bound to fall!” gasped Nellie.
“Not she!” said Eve Sitz, the largest and quietest girl of the group. “Those Gypsies run like dogs and are just as sure-footed as—as chamois,” added the Swiss girl, harking back to a childhood memory of her own mountainous country.
“A Gypsy!” asked Bobby, in a hushed voice. “You don’t mean it?”
“She’s dressed like one,” said Eve.