“Oh, I do hope so. But supposing these weren’t the right Gypsies after all?”
“Don’t you dare suggest such a thing!” threatened Marie. “After all our work, running away from the boys and all that. It simply must be the right camp!”
“Well, I wish we’d come to Bear Pond,” sighed Mrs. Bonnell. “Oughtn’t it to be near here, Marie.”
“I think so,” and she seemed trying to recall the directions.
“Why is it called Bear Pond?” Natalie wanted to know.
“Because there used to be bears there,” answered Alice. “Why else?”
“Bur-r-r-r! I hope there are none about now,” exclaimed Marie with a little shiver.
“Nonsense!” came from Mrs. Bonnell.
They scrambled up a rocky hill, saw before them a little path leading off to the right, followed it and came out on a sort of granite promontory. And there, almost at their feet, lay Bear Pond.
It was more desolate than they had imagined. Not a house was to be seen, and only a leaky and battered boat drawn up on shore near the rock told that occasionally some one rowed on the water. Blackened and decaying stumps could be seen here and there, and across the tops of distant and dead trees circled a few hoarse-voiced crows.