“The children might not have walked all that way,” said Neale O’Neil. “They might have been carried there.”
“Uh-huh? Against their will?”
“Well, why not?” returned Neale. “We hear all kind of stories about Gypsies. I’ve seen some bad ones myself.”
“Aw, they’re petty thieves, and bad horse traders sometimes. But to steal a couple of kids—I dunno ’bout that. Still—if you air bound to go there——”
“I am,” Neale declared. “I’ll have the machine ready as soon as I get a bite of breakfast.”
He was sorry to have no good report to make to the girls and Mrs. Heard, and could only tell them, while he ate his hasty breakfast, where he was going and what he hoped to accomplish.
“I’m going with you,” announced Agnes and Sammy in a breath.
“No,” he said to the girl. “You can’t go. The constable won’t like it.”
“Well, I don’t see——”
“I am sure you would not like to go with a party of rough men,” said Mrs. Heard, with such finality that Agnes became quiet.