It was growing dusk, and the smoke seemed to make the woods more uncanny, and the depths blacker and more dismal.
The children in the underbrush had climbed up into the low trees to get a view of the automobiles.
Jack, Ed and Walter were making their way through the brush to reach the spot whence the smoke was coming.
Mr. Rand and his men were hurrying over from the cross road.
"Go slow!" he called, with the disregard of speech that makes a saying stronger.
"All right," answered Jack. "We'll take it carefully."
"It's a camp!" exclaimed Walter, "and Gypsies, I'll wager."
"Oh, I am so frightened!" cried Belle. "Yet I would brave them alone for the sake of dear, darling Cora."
"Of course you would," Betty assured her, as she picked herself up from a fall over some hidden root.
Dr. Robbins had secured a stout stick, and she made her way with more care over the uncertain footing.