“Well, so have we for that matter. You just keep your nerve. No danger that those fellows will attack us,” and the young man clapped his hand on his hip pocket to indicate the surety of his weapon there.
Ned, at that same time, had caught sight of the men hiding. He came over to where Tavia and his brother stood.
“Don’t let them see us,” he cautioned. “Just get back of that clump of bushes, and we will both fire together. They’ll skip then, I guess.”
Without moving a bush, or rustling a leaf, the trio crept behind the thick blackberry vines, and the next moment two shots rang out through the gully! The report echoed against the very hill where the men were crouching.
Instantly they sprang out into the open space. There were two in number and Tavia recognized them. They were the “bad gypsies,” those turned out of the camp and away from the camping grounds where the other families of gypsies had their quarters.
“Gypsies!” she whispered to Ned.
“Hush!” he cautioned, with a finger on his lips.
Only for a moment did the men stay in sight. Evidently they were trying to locate the direction whence the shots came, but not being able to do so, they, realizing the “enemy” had the entire advantage of them, turned and fled!
Up the hill, across the path, out of the woods and even along the roadside they ran—ran as if a band of constables were at their heels.
“Didn’t I tell you?” said Ned. “Look at them go,” as from the higher position on the hill side the men could still be seen making their escape.