"Salvo deserved what he got."
"You deserve something, too," and the older woman, speaking to a young girl, gave the latter a blow with a whip. The girl winced, and showed her white teeth. She would some day break away from Mother Hull.
They were riding in a gypsy wagon through the mountains, and it was one hour after Cora Kimball had been taken away from the porch of the Tip-Top. The drivers of the wagon were the most desperate members of the North Woods gypsy clan, and they had not the slightest fear that the searchers, who were actually almost flashing their lights in to the very wagon that bore Cora away, could ever discover her whereabouts.
It was close and ill-smelling in that van. Cora was not altogether unconscious, and she turned uneasily on the bundle of straw deep in the bottom of the big wagon.
"She is waking," said the girl presently.
"She can now, if she's a mind to. We are in Dusky Hollow."
"I won't be around when she does awake. I don't like it."
"If you say any more, I'll give you a dose. Maybe you—want—to go—to sleep."
"When I want to I shall," and the black eyes flashed in the darkness.
"We did not promise to——"
"Shut up!" and again that whip rang like the whisper of some frightened tree.