They walked down the road side by side, heading toward the town. Lanky appeared to be wrapped up in his gloomy thoughts, and presently Frank gave him a sly punch in the ribs, bringing out a grunt.
“What ails you, old chum?” demanded Frank, in a joking tone. “You pull a long enough face to stand for seven first-class funerals.”
“It’s all off, Frank!” grumbled the other.
“Oh! you mean the little racket you were working; is that what makes you look so sad?” demanded Frank.
“I was foolish and that’s the trouble!” said Lanky savagely.
“Well, I don’t like to dispute a gentleman’s word, when he’s bent on giving an opinion of himself; but I’d like to know why you say that?” Frank remarked.
“To think that I’d mistake that half-grown gypsy girl for a little one has me badgered some, I tell you, Frank.”
“Perhaps after all, Lanky, you didn’t make such a big mistake as you think!”
“What’s that you’re giving me, Frank; not taffy, I hope?” cried the tall boy, as he whirled around on his companion, eagerly.
“There may have been a small child in that wagon, Lanky, when we first came near the gypsy camp. I didn’t tell you before; but the fact is, I sure saw the old woman hustle some little figure, bundled in a red shawl, down those three steps, and then another gypsy woman lead her off into the woods!”