Part 8 (1/2)

The little company seemed to feel a kind of relief in submitting itself to Barbara's direction. Each doing as she was bid, they started down the wood road, leaving the car with all their baggage behind them.

Miss Sallie had recovered her composure. The necessity of moving quickly, had taken her mind off the situation for the present, and she walked at as brisk a pace as did the girls.

Barbara had directed Mollie to walk a little in front and to keep a sharp lookout, while Bab brought up the rear and watched the sides of the road as vigilantly as a guard in war time, her pistol c.o.c.ked, ready to defend and fight for her friends and sister to her last breath.

Presently curiosity got the better of Ruth.

”Bab,” she asked, ”where on earth did you get that pistol?”

”From your father,” answered Bab. ”That was the secret. Don't you remember? But we must not risk talking now. The quieter we are the better. Voices carry in these woods.”

”You are quite right, Bab, dear,” replied Ruth, under her breath, and not another word was spoken.

Each one was engaged in her own thoughts as the silent procession moved swiftly on.

Miss Sallie was wondering whether they would ever see morning alive.

Grace, who was very devout, was praying softly to herself.

Ruth, in the innermost depths of her mind, was secretly enjoying the whole adventure, dangerous as it was.

Mollie was feeling homesick for her mother, while Bab had no time for any thought than the one that the highwayman might appear at any moment, and from any direction. Who knew but that he had turned and doubled on them, and would spring at them from the next tree?

Presently Mollie, who was a few feet in advance of the others, paused.

”Look!” she whispered as the others came up. ”I see the light of a fire through the trees. I hear voices, too.”

Sure enough, through the interlacing branches of the trees, they could distinctly see the glow of a large fire.

”Wait,” exclaimed Bah under her breath. ”Stand here at the side of the road, where you will be hidden. Perhaps we may find help at last.”

Creeping cautiously among the trees she disappeared in the darkness. It seemed an age to the others, waiting on the edge of the narrow woodland road, but it was only a few minutes, in reality, before Bab was back again.

”They are Gypsies,” she whispered. ”I can tell by their wagons and tents.”

”Gypsies!” exclaimed Miss Sallie, with a tragic gesture of both hands.

”We shall all be murdered as well as robbed!”

”No, no,” protested Mollie. ”I have a friend who is a Gypsy. This may be her tribe. Suppose I go and see. Let me go. Now, Bab,” as her sister touched her with a detaining hand, ”I want to do something.”

And little Mollie, with set lips and pale cheeks, her courageous heart throbbing with repressed excitement, stole off into the dense shadows of the forest.

It seemed another age before the stillness was broken again by the sound of crackling underbrush, and Mollie's figure was gradually outlined in the blackness.

”I couldn't tell,” she said. ”They seemed to be only men sitting around the fire smoking. I was afraid to get any nearer for fear one of them might be the robber. They say Gypsies can be very kind, but I think it would be better if we all went together and asked for help, if we go at all. The men looked very fierce,” she added faintly, slipping her hand into her sister's for sympathy.

”Dearest little sister,” whispered Bab, kissing her, ”don't ever say again you are a coward.”

Then two persons emerged from between the trees on the other side of the road.