"Oh, look! look! All the bonfires and things and people sitting around them!" Mollie interrupted. "That must be the camp, isn't it, Roy?"
It really was the camp. The young people drew closer together as they neared it, fascinated, yet half afraid. There were huge bulky objects in the background beyond the illuminated circle of firelight.
"Those are the caravan wagons, aren't they?" demanded the Little Captain in hushed tones. "Oh, I wish I could see inside one of them."
"Yes, they are the Pullman cars of the gypsies," laughed Jack. "Perhaps you wouldn't like them so much inside if you did see them," he added.
"Oh, let's go on," urged Grace at Betty's elbow. "I'm dying to see more of them, even if I am horribly afraid. Just look at all the tents they have put up. They must expect to stay a long time."
The girls' eyes grew wider and wider as they advanced toward the circle of flickering firelight. It seemed they were not the gypsies' only visitors, for there were many residents of Deepdale, some of whom the girls recognized.
The roving folk had set forth their wares upon rudely constructed tables, ready for the first purchaser. Some of the things were truly beautiful—pieces of rare old lace, chains and chains of many-colored beads, silver that was polished till it reflected dazzlingly the dancing firelight. There were rude tents set aside for the telling of fortunes, and somewhere further back in the camp the wild, sweet strains of a violin mingled with a man's sweet tenor voice.
"Some of those fellows surely can sing," Frank remarked. "I'd give a good hundred dollars this minute if I had his voice."
"I wish I could find one for you, Frank," said Grace. "I need the hundred badly."
The young people spent over an hour wandering about the place, enjoying to the full the novelty and the romance of it all.