"The gypsy camp; eh?" remarked a farmer of whom they asked how to get to the place. "Well, you go along this road about a mile, and then turn into the woods at your right. You can't miss it, for you'll see their tents and wagons. But take my advice, mister, and don't buy any horses of the gypsies. You can't trust 'em."
"I'm not going to buy any horses," said Mr. Brown with a smile. "We're only going to try to get back this little boy's pony which we think the gypsies may have taken."
"Oh, that's different. Well, I wish you luck!"
"Did you see my pony?" asked Bunny. "He was awful nice, and he could do tricks!"
"No, little man, I'm sorry to say I haven't seen your pony," answered the farmer of whom Mr. Brown inquired the way. "I haven't been to the gypsy camp, but a friend of mine bought a horse and it was no good. I don't like gypsies."
"Well, perhaps some of them are good," suggested Mr. Brown. "Did you happen to see, among them, one tall, dark man, who wears a red handkerchief around his neck, has gold rings in his ears and when he smiles he shows his white teeth."
"A lot of the men are like that, and some of the women," said the farmer.
"Is that so?" asked Mr. Brown. "I hoped you might know this particular man. He called himself Jaki Kezar, and he wanted to buy our pony."
"Only I wouldn't sell Toby to him," put in Bunny.
"And so," went on Mr. Brown, "we think this man may have come to our stable in the night and taken away the children's pet."