“Do you travel much?” It was a new voice that asked this question. The rather mysterious Danby Force had come up unobserved.
“Oh yes! We are gypsies. All gypsies travel much,” was the girl’s reply.
“Where will you go next?”
“Over the mountains to Cheyenne.”
“Ah, then you will be going part way back the way we came,” Danby Force said. There was an eager note in his voice. “I wonder if it would be possible for you to take a passenger and to pause for a brief time at a safe landing field?”
Rosemary started. So Danby Force meant to return. He was going back to the lodge. Had he, after all, taken the dark-faced lady’s bag? Had he hidden it there? Would he return and carry it away? If so, why? Why? Such were the questions that crowded her mind. And she did not like them. She did like Danby Force. She wanted to believe that he was incapable of doing a thing dishonest or dishonorable. She had not forgotten his delightful words about God’s invisible power in our lives.
But the little French girl was speaking. “If it will help someone,” she was saying. “We will take you over the mountains and stop at this safe place you speak of.”
“It will help—help a great deal, I assure you!” Danby Force exclaimed. “It may help three thousand people.”
“There it is again,” Rosemary thought. “Always speaking of thousands.”
“We might as well get over to the airport,” Mark, the pilot, suggested to Rosemary. “The dark lady has had ample time to lodge her complaint.”