At this Nat jumped up and looked over the culvert.
“There sure is some one sliding down,” he said. “Hi there! Want any help?”
“A stone slipped under my foot,” came back the answer, and the voice was unmistakably that of a young girl or a child.
“Wait a minute,” called Nat. “I’ll get down there and give you a hand.”
The path to the brook led directly around the bridge, and it took but a moment for the boy to make his way to the spot whence the voice came. Dorothy could scarcely distinguish the two figures that kept so close to the bridge as to be in danger of sliding under the stone arch.
“There,” called Nat. “Get hold of my hand. I have a good grip on a strong limb, and can pull you up.”
But it required a sturdy arm to hold on to the tree branch and pull the girl up. Several times Nat lost his footing and slid some distance, but the street level was finally gained, and the strange girl brought to the road in safety.
The moonlight fell across her slim figure, and revealed the outlines of a very queer little creature indeed. She was dark, with all the characteristics of the Gypsy marked in her face.
Dorothy and Nat surveyed her critically. Whatever could a child of her age be doing all alone there, in that deserted place after nightfall?
“Thanks,” said the girl to Nat, as she rubbed her bare feet on the damp grass. “I almost fell.”