“But I’m sure something will delay him,” said Dorothy to herself. “I feel as if something will surely happen!”
And a well-grounded fear it was for, meanwhile, something was happening to Nat—something quite unexpected.
Having reached, in due time, Dalton and the little cottage where the Travers family dwelt, Nat steered the machine up in front of the door. Then he remembered he had to tighten the bolt of the clutch pedal, and decided to do it before making his inquiries, as it was important that the pedal be tight. He turned back to the machine, from which he had jumped, to get his wrench from the tool box under the rear seat. He unbuttoned the leather curtain that reached down to the floor of the tonneau, and was feeling about for the wrench when he started back in surprise.
There, under the seat, stretched out so as to be concealed while the curtain was down, was Urania, the Gypsy girl! The confined space made her hump up like an angry cat, and her dark face peered sharply into Nat’s from under the leather flap.
For a moment Nat could not find words to speak to the girl, who remained in her hiding place, grinning out at him with a mocking look on her elfin face.
“Hello!” she exclaimed presently. “I had a lovely ride.”
“Get out of there instantly,” exclaimed Nat, in angry tones. “How in the world did you ever get in there?”
“Oh, easy enough. You locked the door, but you left the shed window open last night, and I crawled in. I was almost a goner, though, when you and your brother came out on the porch looking for spooks. I was just trying your hammock then. That’s a softer cradle than this stuffy place.”
“I guess I’d better hand you over to a constable,” went on Nat, realizing what it might mean to try to drag the girl from her hiding place just then.
“Oh, don’t trouble yourself,” was the cool answer. “I believe I’ve had enough of riding, and I’d like to stretch out a bit.”