"We mustn't do that again," she said, "it makes us too much out of breath, and we can't walk afterward. Now let's rest a minute, and then walk on just middling fast,—because it's a long way yet. What time do you suppose we'll get there?"
"Pomp said if we'd walk straight along we ought to get to the inn by half-past twelve. They won't have lunch till we get there."
"You bet they won't! Do you know where the inn is?"
"Well, I've never been there, but when we get to Pelton I rather guess we can find the inn! Come on, Mops, if you're rested, we'd better get a move on!"
Then they trudged on together, finding the way very pleasant, and many things to interest them as they passed along.
The road was a public highway, and there were many motor cars and much other traffic.
But as the children kept on a grassy path by the side of the road they were in no danger, and there was no possibility of losing their way.
"It's just a matter of keeping at it," said King, "but it does seem longer than I thought. We're not halfway yet."
"How do you know?"
"'Cause Pomp said when we came to the sign-board pointing to Mossville we'd be halfway, and we haven't come to that yet."
"What makes you call him Pomp?"
"Oh, just for short; and besides he's kind of pompous, you know,—sort of stuffy and English."
"Yes, he is. I like him, though, and I think he's going to like us, but he doesn't understand us yet. I hope Father will ask that lame girl to lunch with us. I think she looked hungry."
"She looked awful poor, and I s'pose poor folks are always hungry. It must be awful to be always hungry, Mops!"
"Well, I'm 'most always hungry myself."
"Oh, that isn't real hunger; that's just wanting something to eat. Hello, here's the Mossville sign now! See it?"
"Yes; so now we must be halfway. I'm not tired, are you?"
"No, not a bit. I'd like a drink of water, though. Perhaps we'll come to a brook."
But they walked on considerably further without seeing any brook, or even a farmhouse where they might stop for a drink of water. But when they were about half a mile from Pelton, King saw a little bridge off toward the right, and exclaimed, "That bridge must be over water of some sort. If you want to, Midget, we can go over and see if it's clean enough to drink."
"Come on, then; it won't take long, and I'm 'most choked to death."
They walked across an intervening field, and came to the little bridge which did cross a small but clear and sparkling brook.
"What can we drink out of?" asked Midget.
"Have to drink out of our hands, I guess; wish we had a cup or something.
Oh, look at that man!"
Midget looked in the direction King pointed, and saw a man seated on the ground, busily working at something which seemed to be made of long rushes of reeds.
"He's making a basket," cried King, greatly interested. "Let's go and look at him."
They trotted over to the man, and King said, politely, "Is that a basket you're making, sir?"
"Yes," came the answer in a gruff voice, and when the man looked up at them, they saw he was a strange-looking person indeed. His complexion was dark, his coarse black hair rather long, and his black eyes had a shrewd expression, but were without kindliness. "What do you want?" he said, still in his gruff voice.
"We don't want anything p'ticular," said Marjorie, who did not wish to be intrusive; "we did want a drink of water out of the brook, but we had nothing to drink from, and then we saw you building a basket, and we just came over to look at you. You don't mind, do you?"
"No, I don't mind," and the man's voice was a little less gruff as he looked at Marjorie's pretty smiling face. Then he gave her another look, somewhat more scrutinizing, and then he looked again at King. "You want a drink of water, do you?" and the look of interest in his round black eyes seemed to become intensified. "Well, I'll tell you what to do; you go right straight along that little path through the grass, and after a few steps, you'll find some people, and they'll give you a drink of water with pleasure, and a nice cup to drink it out of."
"Is it far?" asked Marjorie, for she couldn't see any signs of habitation, and did not wish to delay too long.
"No; 'tain't a dozen steps. Just behind that clump of trees yonder; you can't miss it."
"A farmhouse, I suppose," said King.
"Well, not just exactly a farmhouse," said the man, "but you go on, you youngsters, and whoever you see when you get there, tell 'em Jim sent you."
"We will; and thank you, Jim," said Marjorie, suddenly remembering her manners.
"You're welcome," said the man, and again his voice was gruff as at first.
"Somehow I don't like it, Mops," said King, who had a troubled look on his face as they walked swiftly along the path indicated.
"Don't like what?"
"His sending us over here. And I don't like him; he didn't look right."
"I thought he was very kind to tell us about the farmhouse, and if his voice is sort of gruff, I s'pose he can't help that."
"It isn't that exactly; but I think he's a,—a—"
"A what?"
"Never mind; here we are at the place. Why, Mops, it isn't a house at all! It's a tent,—a lot of tents."
"So it is! It must be an encampment. Do you think there are soldiers here?"
"Soldiers? No! I only wish they were soldiers."
As King was speaking, a young woman came walking toward them, smiling in an ingratiating way. Like the man, Jim, she was dark-haired and dark-skinned. Her black eyes flashed, and her smiling red lips showed very white teeth as she spoke kindly to the children.
"Come in," she said, in a wheedling voice; "come in; I love little boys and girls. What do you want?"
Marjorie began to say, "We want a drink of water," when King pinched her elbow as a sign to be quiet, and he spoke to the woman himself. "We don't want anything," he said, "we're just passing by on our way to Pelton. Good-morning."
Grasping Marjorie's arm he turned to go away, but the woman stopped him, saying, "Oh, don't go so quickly; come in and rest a moment, and I will give you a drink of milk, and then you can go on to Pelton."
"Yes, let's do that, King," said Marjorie, looking at her brother, amazed at his ungracious actions.
But King persisted in his determination. "No, thank you," he said to the woman in a decided way; "you're very kind, but we don't care for any milk, and we must go right on to Pelton."
"And I say you must stay right here," said the woman, in much sterner tones than she had used before, and taking the children each by an arm, she pushed them ahead of her inside of the largest tent.
CHAPTER V
HELD CAPTIVE
Then King's fears were realized. He had suspected these people were gypsies, and now he discovered that they were. Inside the tent were three or four men and women, all of the dark, gypsy type, and wearing the strange, bright-colored garments characteristic of their tribe. They did not seem ill-disposed toward the visitors, but welcomed them cordially, and one of the women went at once for a pitcher of milk, and brought it, with two glasses, which she set on the table.
King was not exactly frightened, for they all seemed pleasant and kind enough, but he couldn't help remembering how gypsies were credited with the habit of stealing children, and holding them for ransom. "But only babies," he thought to himself; "I don't believe they ever steal such big kids as Marjorie and me."
King was fifteen, and tall for his age, and as he looked at Marjorie he realized that she was a big girl, too, and he felt sure they were beyond the age of being kidnapped. But as he noted the furtive glances which were cast at them by the gypsies, he again felt alarmed, and glanced at Marjorie to see if her thoughts were like his own.
But they were not. Marjorie was chatting gaily with the good-looking young woman who had brought her into the tent, and she was accepting an invitation to have a glass of milk and a cracker.
As an old gypsy woman poured the milk from the pitcher into the glass, she turned her back to Marjorie, but King's alert eyes could see her shaking a small portion of white powder into the milk.