A few minutes later the same men came hurrying back.
“No use askin’ what they did, Frank,” remarked Lanky, exultantly; “just take a peep at their grinning faces; doesn’t that tell the story?”
“I reckon you’re right, Lanky,” admitted the other, readily enough.
“That means they stay right here; doesn’t it, Frank? They’ll be on hand if that telegram only happens to come along to-morrow, Tuesday or Wednesday. Hope it gets a hustle on by then. If it doesn’t, I’ll give the game up as a bad job, and call myself a poor detective, who couldn’t detect a clue as big as Squire Perkins’ new barn.”
“Well, the way you ran this little dodge, and tempted the men to stay over, tells me you’re going to do better things right soon!” declared Frank.
“Do you really believe that?” demanded the other, who was always glad to hear Frank praise him.
“I certainly do, Lanky. And what you’ve done right here is no little job. It gives you the extension of time you wanted, and holds the gates wide open.”
“They’re going to stay, Frank!” said Lanky in a low tone, after listening to what those who had just come from the camp said to their comrades still clustered near the tree bearing the flaming placard. “Three days’ grace, Frank. Isn’t that just bully for us, though? Sure that telegram must get here before all that time slips past. Say, our folks might read us a lecture if they saw us here, blowing our horns about the grand athletic tournament; but, Frank, when I just remember what we’re doing it all for, I don’t feel that it’s wrong. I’d go still further to help——” but his chum held up a finger, and gave a significant warning hiss, to cut his impetuous exclamation short.
CHAPTER XVII
THE GYPSY QUEEN’S MOVE
“Unless you want to queer the whole business, Lanky, you’ve got to hold yourself in check better,” Frank said, cautiously, making sure that none of the gypsy men was close enough to hear him whisper in this fashion.