Chapter XIV
TROMPKE TALKS
It was a weird place to which Philippe led his little party. Crows, descendants of the poet and the fairy, flew all about. The noise they made was deafening.
Philippe was in a state of great excitement; and the screeching and yelling of the thousands of birds made his head whirl.
As night came, however, the crows grew quieter. The little group settled itself to rest.
The man said, "This is your doing, boy. If there is no bag of gold in the morning I shall make your head feel like a bag of gold!"
He smiled, but Philippe saw a wicked gleam in his eye.
They were all tired, and soon Tom fell asleep; but not Philippe and Zelie! The boy and girl lay awake and stared into the darkness. They listened. They waited.
Now, if only some one would come! This was their one chance to capture Tom and to free themselves. The night wore on. But no one came.
Philippe could stand it no longer. What if Papa Pomme had not received his letter?