Whirling her pony’s head she turned down into a canyon that led to the shore. There she concealed her horse and with Tirol she lay close to the sand.
Two horsemen passed on the highway, and, as she had surmised, one was Anselo Spico. She thought they were hunting for her but she was mistaken. In the village the Romany rye had heard of a rich gorigo whose horses were of the finest breed and whose stables were but slightly guarded, and it was to inspect this place that they were going.
True, Mizella’s son had noticed Nan’s absence that morning but he knew that she would return and he was planning a cruel punishment which he would administer for her defiance and disobedience.
Nan remained in hiding until she could no longer hear the beating of the hoofs, then she said gaily—“Look Tirol, the sand is hard on the beach. I’ll lift you up again, dearie, and we’ll ride along by the sea.”
The boy laughed happily as they rode, so close to the waves that now and then one broke about the pony’s feet, and the girl laughed, too, for it is easy to forget troubles when one is young.
They soon came to a beautiful estate where the park-like grounds reached the edge of the gleaming white sand, but it was surrounded by a hedge so high that even on the small horse’s back the children could not see over it.
“Tirol,” Nan exclaimed, “no one could find us here, and so close up to this high hedge, we’ll have our breakfast.”
Leaping from the pony the girl, with tender compassion, carefully lifted down the mis-shapen boy, then opening a bundle tied in a red handkerchief, she gave him a thick slice of brown bread and a piece of roasted pig, which she had stored away the evening before.
“Look! Look!” cried the boy, clapping his claw-like hands. “The birds are begging, Nanny, let Tirol feed them.”
Like a white cloud shining in the sun the sea gulls winged down from the sky. Gypsy Nan leaped to her feet and ran with outstretched arms to greet them, and the white birds fearlessly circled about her as she tossed crumbs into the air, and one, braver than the others lighted on Tirol’s outstretched hand and pecked at his breakfast.