“Dry up!” commanded Jack shortly. “You’ve got Natalie on the brain. Come on!”
“I wouldn’t, boys,” advised the officer. “It’s dark, there are any number of roads the tribe could have taken, not to say of slipping off into the woods.”
“That’s right,” agreed Blake. “We didn’t think of that.”
“And making inquiries, and then doubling back in case you’re on the wrong road, all takes time,” went on the policeman. “You had much better wait until morning.”
“I guess that’s right,” assented Phil. “Poor momsey will be wild about her ring, though. Well, back home it is,” and he turned away from the deserted encampment.
They had not gone far on the backward trail ere they heard the tramp of approaching feet on the hard highway, for they were not yet in the district of sidewalks.
“Some one’s coming!” exclaimed Phil.
“It walks like the Chief,” commented Officer Brady.
“Who’s there?” demanded a sharp voice from the darkness.
“It is the Chief!” the policeman asserted. “It’s Brady, sir,” he added, in answer to a question. “I’ve been out chasin’ after a band of Gypsies.”