“It isn’t a little trouble,” declared Mabel. “I shall always feel that it was my fault if mother’s ring is not recovered.”
“But you mustn’t, dear,” said Mrs. Anderson gently, putting her arms around her daughter. Mabel sobbed a little, and then, remembering her guests, she regained her composure.
“It won’t be as easy as this—getting a meal in camp,” remarked Alice, as she put a match to the gas stove.
“But it will be ever so much more fun!” declared Natalie. “Think of sitting beside the sky-blue water, with the birds singing overhead, and eating a meal beside a glowing camp fire.”
“Beautiful breath-of-the-pine-tree!” exclaimed Marie. “That is if the camp fire doesn’t smoke.”
“They almost always do—at least those I’ve seen always did,” declared Mabel.
Phil, Blake and Jack had no trouble in persuading one of the policemen to accompany them to the Gypsy encampment. On the way, as they hurried on, they told of what had occurred.
“It’s about time something was done to them Gypsies,” declared the officer. “They pretend to tell fortunes—the women folks do—but it’s only an excuse to get around to places and size ’em up, so the men folks can come later, and pick up anything that’s lying around loose. As for horse-trading, they’d stick the wisest white man that ever cinched a saddle. They can doctor old, worn-out nags so they’ll look like racers, but the first time you drive ’em the color runs in the rain, and their manes and tails come unglued. I know Gypsies! I’ll be glad of a chance to help run these out of town!”
The boys and officer hurried on. They had left the lighted streets of the town, and were out on a country road leading to the next village.