They heard them go out and slam the door; and their footsteps sounded on the cobbled path outside the shed.
“Now,” said Hugh, “what on earth are we to do next?”
“I can’t understand it all,” answered David, “but if grandfather really has something funny about his past, we had better not tell the police about this meeting at the cross-roads. And yet I hate the thought of him meeting Black Bill alone. You don’t know what he might do.”
“I’ve got an idea!” said Hugh suddenly. “Let’s rush back and get the bike, and get there before them, and go and tell the whole thing to the Tramp. He would be sure to know what to do. And he would come with us and hear what they all say in the wood.”
“Good idea!” said David; and, with all haste, the Cubs set out for the place where the bicycle lay concealed.
Unmistakably it was Black Bill and the stranger.
[To face page 97.
CHAPTER XXI
THE “WICKED UNCLE” FOUND AT LAST
Black Bill and his accomplice had set out across the field in a direction which Hugh felt sure would bring them out on to the high road. It was, therefore, with all speed that the Cubs scrambled back along the little path, over gates, and through gaps, until they found themselves once again near the gipsy camp. Fetching the bicycle from their hiding-place in the old cistern, they wheeled it quietly across the grass on to the road. After lighting the lamps Hugh mounted, waited for David to be firmly settled on the carrier of the bike, and then began to fairly hog it down the road. Fortunately for him the way lay almost entirely down hill.