“‘Over to Slater’s to warn ’em ‘bout that robbery as Pa says it’s sure sartin.’
“Davie’s little wild pony needed no urging and a second later all we could see of him was a racing sand cloud. I laughed, but Lucky seemed to take the matter more seriously. ‘What do you make of it?’ I asked when I had let him study on the matter in silence for several moments.
“‘Ah jest don’t,’ he replied. ‘Ah cain’t figure nohow why a caravan of gypsies ’d start across this here trackless part of the desert.’
“‘It isn’t as trackless as it used to be,’ I reminded him, ‘for now that all the ranchers own automobiles there’s a makeshift sort of a road from one place to the next.’
“‘Mebbe so, but Ah cain’t figger out why gypsies would go to all the trouble of draggin that there caravan o’ theirs through the sand jest to be robbin’ ranches. They couldn’t make fast enough time to get away with it. More’n likely, if they was gypsies, they-all thought as how this might be a short cut to some place up north where they’re bound for.’
“I agreed that Lucky’s version was probably the correct one, and, as we saw no evidence of the reported caravan in our neighborhood, I doubtless would never have thought of them again if it hadn’t been for something which happened that very night.”
Malcolm paused and the girls, having ceased eating to listen, leaned forward with renewed interest.
“Oh, brother, what happened? Please don’t stop there.”
The lad smiled. “I only stopped to take a breath. That is permissible, isn’t it?”
“Oh-ee! I’m so excited.” Betsy’s flushed cheeks and glowing eyes were evidence that what she said was true. “Did the gypsy caravan come?”