Frank knew that for Lanky to make any attempt to interfere with the gypsies at such a time would be the height of folly.
“Go on; don’t stop, Lanky!” he exclaimed, ready to push the other onward if he manifested a stubborn disposition, as though inclined to investigate.
“But, didn’t you hear it?” demanded the tall fellow, irresolutely.
“Move along there!” said Bones, as if in disgust; “why, whatever’s coming over our bold Lanky Wallace, when even the squalling of a gypsy kid gets on his nerves?”
“Go on, Lanky,” said Frank, in earnest tones; “you’ll only make trouble, and get in a fight, if you try anything here. Wait a while, and perhaps you can find out all you want without having a row.”
Realizing that Frank was right, as he generally was, Lanky again started on; but after passing the head of the gypsy caravan he slackened his pace enough to let his chum come alongside.
“You heard that, too; didn’t you, Frank?” he asked, eagerly.
“Of course I did, and so did Bones, because you know he spoke of a gypsy kid crying,” returned Frank, himself more than a little puzzled by now.
“It wasn’t the one at the window, because she was older, and besides, you saw her stare at us,” Lanky continued, in his old argumentative way. “No, sir; that one who started to scream was a smaller child, and must have been the same I saw before. Didn’t I say she held out her baby hands to me? And now, when she begins to cry, that old gypsy crone shuts her off quick. Frank, honest Injun now, I wouldn’t be surprised if she just took her by the throat and choked her to keep her still!”
“Oh, come, now, Lanky, you’re letting that wild imagination of yours just run away with you!” remarked Frank; but the other noticed that there was a serious expression on the face of his chum at the same time.