“It’s like the mystery of the ‘Maria Theresa,’” pursued the man. “A perfectly good ship abandoned in mid-ocean without the slightest explanation and all on board lost forever.”
This gruesome comparison made Miss Campbell decidedly uncomfortable.
“Shall we leave her to drift, ladies?” he asked affably.
“I will protect the ‘Comet’ with my life,” she thought. “I don’t believe they are Gypsies anyhow. Their accent is too good, and a Gypsy would never address the women of his family as ‘ladies.’”
“I am afraid I am at present the sole survivor of the crew,” she said politely to the young man. “If you would be kind enough to advise me, sir, I should be greatly indebted.”
Immediately the man lifted his broad-brimmed hat and the women in the rocking chairs leaned forward in order the better to see this dainty, mysterious little lady in gray who had emerged apparently from a primeval forest.
“With the greatest pleasure, ma’am,” answered the young man, filled with curiosity, and they all listened with courteous attention while she related the history of the afternoon’s mishaps.
“And now that stupid Ben, who is really a very nice boy under ordinary circumstances, has gone off and left me and almost anything could have happened,—wolves, Indians, half-breeds—” she added, thinking of the treacherous Lupos.
After she had finished, the young man stood for a moment thinking.
“My name is Richard Hook, ma’am, at your service,” he said. “The only thing I could suggest is for me to unhitch Dobbin here and ride him down the road to look for your party and leave you with my sister, Maggie, and her friend. This is as good a place as any other for us to put up for the night. You might as well start supper, girls. Perhaps this lady is hungry.”