“Oh,” replied Tavia, vaguely, in a tone of voice that might have suited the entire list of interjections with equal indifference.
“To proceed,” prompted Nat.
“Yes,” went on Dorothy, “we went to the hill and Urania showed me the ice house where she told me the things were put by the men who had taken them. She said her father knew they were there, but that he would not touch them.”
“Dad’s no thief,” spoke up the gypsy girl, “but he’s no sneak either, and he wants me to mind my own business. But I thought I could find the stuff and wanted to get the things back to you—you had treated me white, and I—I don’t go back on my friends.”
“Three cheers for Urania!” Nat exclaimed in a hoarse subdued yell, “and three more cheers for her friends!”
When the “cheering” was over Dorothy again tried to tell her story.
“Where was I at?” she asked.
“At the cave,” replied Tavia, eager to hear the “real hold up,” part of the play.
“Yes, Urania went in first and assured me it was all right. Then I went in—and then—”
“Next!” called off Nat. “Now Urania it’s up to you! You’ve got her in the cave now.”