“The new mare, Allan?” Dr. Stone asked.
“No, sir. Skipper thinks it’s more in keeping not to ride her until tomorrow.” Skipper had always been Allan Robb’s name for his guardian. “Did you run into the gypsies?”
The doctor was surprised. “You know they’re there?”
“Of course. I think we all know they’re there.”
The doctor’s surprise increased. “Alec, too?”
“Skipper?” Allan’s laugh rang. “Doctor, I think Skipper’s softening. Of course he knows they’re there—he must. Cousin Bruce, too. You remember Bruce—forever chasing boys out of the orchard when he came on vacation? Last night I saw him talking pleasantly to one of the gypsy men.”
“Where was Bruce? At their camp?”
“No; down at the ravine bridge.” Spurs touched the horse. “You and Joe will be over this afternoon?”
“Nothing could keep me away,” Dr. Stone said quietly. The horse was gone in a crescendo of hoof-beats, and the blind man again stood thinking for a time before moving on.
Joe Morrow met him at the house gate. “Allan stopped and said we were to go over, Uncle David. He’s going to show me the mare. And there’s a story in the Herald about Bruce Robb. He’s being sued—.” The boy found the story in the paper. “For eight thousand five hundred dollars.” He spoke the sum in a tone of awe.