“Where the queen lives, you mean?” asked Frank.
“Well, she must ’a’ just discovered that there were strangers in the camp, because I saw her chase something up the steps into the wagon. She hid it with her dress all the while, so I couldn’t make sure; but, Frank, I just know, as certain as I’m here, that it must have been that kid. She don’t want anybody outside to set eyes on that little girl. Now, why should she act that way if the child belonged to her people? I tell you, it looks more and more to me like there must be fire where you find smoke.”
There was no opportunity to say any more. The gypsy man had come to a halt, and was waiting for Frank to overtake him. Perhaps he supposed that the messenger was warning his companion to be careful how he touched anything, and got himself in a mess with the campers.
Frank was soon face to face with a middle-aged woman, whose face, though marked by many wrinkles, had a keen look upon it. Her black eyes seemed to bore him through. He had seen Queen Esther on other occasions, for these gypsies came along about the same time every year, camping in the pasture at Budd’s Corners, and trading horses with the farmers for miles around.
If a farmer had a horse that did not please him he would hold it until these nomads arrived, when he tried to drive a shrewd bargain with them. But, though at the time he might flatter himself on having gotten the best part of the trade, as time rolled on he would awaken to the fact that after all he was mistaken. But by then the gypsies were sure to be far on their way; and a whole year would elapse before they again made their appearance on the scene.
Frank quickly introduced the subject that had brought him there. He believed he saw a sudden look of relief flash over the strongly marked features of the queen, as though certain fears had been set at rest.
She immediately began to discuss the proposition suggested by Mr. Budd, and with a business-like manner that proved her right to be at the head of the tribe. The owner of the field had entered into the spirit of Frank’s design; and in order to give Lanky more time in which to do his prowling, the negotiations were prolonged by various little hitches that had to be smoothed away.
So slow was Frank in reaching an agreement, and getting it properly signed, that half an hour must have passed since he and Lanky first arrived at the borders of the gypsy encampment.
And all of this time the tall lad was having a chance to roam around the camp, observing what went on, and doubtless picking up points that might prove of more or less value to him later on.
Frank saw him from time to time, but seemed to pay not the slightest attention to what he was doing. And on Lanky’s part it can be said with truth that he surely gave his chum no trouble whatever. He sauntered here, and stopped there to watch some boys playing a game with a pocket-knife very similar to mumble-the-peg, with which of course Lanky was familiar.