“I’ll get you to Milton in much shorter time than it took to get here,” said the constable. “Keep right ahead, Mr. O’Neil. We’ll take the first turn to the right and run on till we come to Hampton Mills. It’s pretty near a straight road from there to Milton. And I can get a ride from the Mills to my place with a fellow I know who passes my house every morning.”
Neale started the car and they left the buzzing camp behind them. They had no idea that the moment the sound of the car died away the Gypsies leaped to action, packed their goods and chattels again, and the tribe started swiftly for the State line. Big Jim did not mean to be caught if he could help it by Constable Stryker, who knew his record.
The Corner House car whirred over the rather good roads to Hampton Mills and there the constable parted from them. He promised to report any news he might get of the absent children, and they were to send him word if Tess and Dot were found.
The car rounded the pond where Sammy had had his adventure at the ice-house and had ruined his knickerbockers. It was a straight road from that point to Milton. Going up the hill beside the pond in the gray light of dawn, they saw ahead of them a man laboring on in the middle of the road with a child upon his shoulders, while two other small figures walked beside him, clinging to his coat.
“There’s somebody else moving,” said Mr. Pinkney to Agnes. “What do you know about little children being abroad at this time of the morning?”
“Shall we give them a lift?” asked Neale. “Only I don’t want to stop on this hill.”
But he did. He stopped in another minute because Agnes uttered a piercing scream.
“Oh, Tessie! Oh, Dot! It’s them! It’s the children!”
“Great Moses!” ejaculated Mr. Pinkney, forced likewise into excitement, “is that Sammy Pinkney?”
The man carrying Dot turned quickly. Tess and Sammy both uttered eager yelps of recognition. Dot bobbed sleepily above the head of the man who carried her pickaback.