After that silence reigned, broken only occasionally by a nervous whisper from one of the girls as they watched the approach of the enemy—or so they regarded them—with breathless interest.
There were about twenty in the group, of which the majority were men. As they came nearer, the girls and boys could see how greatly their ages varied. Some were old men with white hair and flowing beards, while others were young striplings scarcely out of boyhood. Their clothes were many hued and picturesque, while each one carried on his back a huge bundle. They traveled along the bank, speaking in a low mellow tone, a language which the Outdoor Girls and the boys had never heard before.
Grace crowded close to Betty, and the Little Captain squeezed her arm reassuringly. "I kind of like them," she whispered. "They look so interesting. They look like bandits or——"
Frank's hand closed abruptly over her mouth—for low as her tone had been the gypsies were near enough now to hear the slightest whisper.
On, on came the little procession so near that the girls, by stretching out their hands, could almost have touched them. They scarcely dared to breathe.
The gypsies moved on for a short distance, then gathered about something the nature of which the girls and boys could not discern. In his curiosity, Allen forgot caution and rising from the protection of the bushes he tip-toed over to a more advantageous lookout. In a moment he was back again on his knees beside the crouching group crying in an excited manner: "It's our cave—the cave Betty and I discovered—they are going into it. Say, I wish we had gone in when we had the chance!"
"I don't," said Mollie, "they might have found you there and knifed you in the back or something."
"Especially something," mocked Roy. But Mollie was too excited to hear him.
"Look!" Grace cried. "Now that they are all inside, you wouldn't know that there was any opening there at all."
"It is tough to have to sit outside and look at nothing," Roy began.