CHAPTER VIII
THE GIPSY CARAVAN
"Hello, fellows. Look at this. Well, of all the----"
The boys looked up at Bob's startled exclamation, and for a momenteverything else was forgotten, while they stared with wide-open eyes atthe grotesque procession that came into view.
Down the road crawled a little caravan of ten or a dozen ramshacklewagons, drawn by tired-looking horses. At their heads or alongsidewalked a number of men of various ages, dressed in all sorts ofnondescript costumes. Their swarthy faces and dark eyes, together withthe large earrings that they wore, gave them a distinctly piraticalappearance, and to the boys they looked as though they might have beentaken bodily from one of the old romances of the Spanish Main. Theymight easily have been the blood brothers of the rascals who sang inthundering chorus:
"Fifteen men on the dead man's chest, Sing heigho, and a bottle of rum."
But, alas! there were no murderous pistols thrust in their belts orcutlasses held between their teeth to complete the illusion, and thepicturesque crowd resolved itself into a troop of gipsies going intocamp.
The place they had pitched upon for their temporary stay was about threemiles distant from the boys' camp and had been chosen with a keen eye toits advantages. Either through a scout sent ahead or simply by thatmarvelous sixth sense so highly developed in wandering peoples, they hadelected to stop at a little ravine through which ran a brook of sparklingwater and surrounded by a wood that furnished ample supplies for theircampfires. It was fascinating to see the dexterity, born of longexperience, with which the camp was pitched. The horses were unhitchedin a twinkling and turned out to graze, while the wagons were ranged ina single circle around the camp. Some brown, dirty canvas and a fewbranches of trees were quickly transformed into tents. Wood was cut, arough fireplace built, a huge kettle suspended over the flames thatcrackled merrily beneath, and the women and girls who had descendedfrom the wagons busied themselves in bringing water from the brookand preparing supper for the tired and hungry crew. The men, afterthe rougher work was done, sprawled around upon the grass, talkingin a language unintelligible to the boys, and occasionally casting anindifferent look at the group in the automobile, who had watched thescene with breathless interest.
"Well," said Bert at last, as he roused himself with an effort, "theyhaven't asked us to stay to supper, and I suppose it isn't good mannersto hang around while they are eating, even if this is a public place. Sohere goes," and throwing in the clutch he started the "Red Scout" offtoward camp.
The liveliest interest, not unmixed with envy, was shown by the otherboys at the recital by the auto squad of the afternoon's adventure.
"Gee," said Jim Dawson, "you fellows certainly do have all the luck. IfI'd been with you there'd have been nothing more exciting than a rabbitscurrying across the road. To-day I stayed behind and here you fellowshave watched the pitching of a gipsy camp."
"Never mind, Jim," said Tom, "we'll all go over soon and take it in. Isuppose they'll be there for some time."
"There's no telling," remarked Dick. "Sometimes they stay in one placefor two or three weeks, until the call of the road becomes so strongthat they can't resist it. Then again, after a day or two, they
"'Fold their tents like the Arabs And silently steal away.'"
"'Steal' is a very good word to use in that connection, Dick," said Mr.Hollis, as he joined the group, when after an abundant supper they sataround the campfire; "for if what we hear of gipsies in general is true,they spend most of their time in stealing."
"Perhaps, though," he went on, "that is putting it a little too harshly.There is a strong prejudice against them because of their vagrant modeof life, and there is no doubt that the distinction between 'mine'and 'thine' is very vague in their minds. Hen-roosts are apt to bemysteriously thinned out when they are in the neighborhood, and many aporker has uttered his last squeal when gripped by a gipsy hand. Horses,too, occasionally vanish in a way that would mean a short shrift and arope in the Western country, if the thief were caught. But, on the otherhand, they seldom commit deeds of violence. You never hear of theirblowing open a safe, and, though they are passionate and hot tempered,they are not often charged with murder. The Bowery thug and yeggman aremuch more dangerous enemies to society than the average gipsy. Perhapsthe worst indictment to be brought against them is that in years pastthey were frequently guilty of kidnapping. But that was in the earlierdays, when the country was sparsely settled and communication wasdifficult. Then, if they got a good start, it was often impossible toovertake them. But to-day, with the country thickly populated and thetelegraph and telephone everywhere, they would most certainly be caught.No doubt the elders of the tribe shake their heads sadly as they reflectthat the kidnapping industry is no longer what it has been."
"How do they make a living, anyway?" interjected Dave. "What they stealisn't enough to keep them alive."
"Well," returned Mr. Hollis, "the men are very keen traders in horses.They know a horse from mane to hoof. They can take a poor old wreckof a cart horse and doctor him up until he looks and acts like athoroughbred. Very few men can get ahead of them in a trade, as manya farmer has found to his cost. The women are often very expert inembroidery and find a ready sale for their really beautiful work. Then,too, as fortune tellers they are proverbial the world over. Cross agipsy's palm with gold or silver and she'll predict for you a futurethat kings and queens might envy. It is safe to say that during theirstay here they will reap quite a harvest--enough at least to suffice forthe simple needs of to-day. As for to-morrow, they don't care. Thatcan take care of itself. They are as irresponsible as crickets orbutterflies. They 'never trouble trouble till trouble troubles them.'"
"Well," said Dave, "they get rid of a whole lot of needless worry,anyway. They don't suffer as much as the old lady did who said thatshe had had an awful lot of trouble in her life and most of it hadnever happened."
The boys laughed, and Tom asked:
"Where do they get their name from? Why do they call them gipsies?"
"Because," answered Mr. Hollis, "they were supposed to be descendedfrom the old Egyptians. They resemble them in features, and manywords in their language are derived from Egypt. Many scholars think,however, that their original home was India. Europe has been familiarwith them for the last four hundred years. They have always beenIshmaelites--their hand against every man and every man's hand againstthem--and by some they have been believed to be the actual descendantsof Ishmael, the outcast son of Abraham. Everywhere they have beendespised and persecuted. In the old days they were accused of beingsorcerers and witches. They have been banished, burned at the stake,broken on the wheel, hung, drawn and quartered. It is one of themiracles of history that they have not been wiped out altogether.But they have always clung closely together and persisted in theirstrange, wandering way of life. They have a language of their ownand certain rude laws that all the tribes acknowledge. The restlessinstinct is in their blood and probably will be there forever. Theyare a living protest against civilization as we understand it.Occasionally, one of them will join the ranks of ordinary men, but, farmore frequently, they gain recruits from those who want to throw offthe shackles and conventions of the settled life. More than one man andwoman have listened to the 'call of the wild' and followed the gipsies,as the children in the fable followed the Pied Piper of Hamelin. Butnow, boys," he said, rising, "it's time for 'taps.' To-morrow eveningwe'll all go over and take a closer look at these gipsies of yours."
All through the following day the boys, though attentive to what theywere doing, were keenly alive to the promised treat that night. Therewas an early supper, to which, despite the under-current of excitement,they did full justice, and then in the gathering dusk the boys set outfor the grove. Since not all could go in the automobile, it was decidedthat all should go on foot, and with jest and laughter they covered thethree miles almost before they knew it.
Quite different from that of the day before was the sight that burstup
on them as they rounded a curve in the road and came upon thepicturesque vagrants. Here and there were torches of pitch pine thatthrew a smoky splendor over the scene and hid all the squalor and sordidpoverty that had been so evident in the broad light of day. By this timeit was fully dark, but a full moon cast its beauty over the trees andflecked the ground with bright patches that added to the torches madethe whole grove like a fairyland. The news of the gipsies' coming hadreached the surrounding towns, and there was quite a gathering of prettygirls and country swains, whose buggies stood under the trees at theroadside, while youths and maidens wandered among the wagons of thecaravan. At the open door of one of the vans a young gipsy drew from aviolin the weird, heart-tugging strains that have made their musicfamous throughout the world. Others sat around their fire and talkedtogether in a low tone, casting furtive glances at the visitors, whosecoming they seemed neither to welcome nor resent. With their instinctiveappreciation of the fine points in any animal, the eyes of some of thembrightened as Don threaded his way through the different groups, but,apart from that, they gave no sign that they were conscious of thenewcomers.
With the gipsy women, however, it was different. This was their hour andthey improved it to the utmost. Withered crones and handsome girls withcurious turbans wound about their heads went from group to group,offering to tell their fortunes, provided their palms were crossed.There was no difficulty about this, as most of the girls had come therewith that one desire and the gallant youths who escorted them urged themto gratify it regardless of expense. If the recording angel put downthat night all the lies that were told, all the promises of wealth andtitle and position that sent many a giddy head awhirl to its pillow, hewas kept exceedingly busy. Just for a lark, the boys themselves werewilling patrons of these priestesses of the future; but little of whatwas promised them remained in their memory, except that Tom was to meeta "dark lady" who was to have a great and happy influence upon his life.The boys chaffed him a good deal about this mystical brunette, but hemaintained with mock gravity that "one never knows" and that perhaps theswarthy soothsayer "knew what she was talking about after all."
In view of the unusual circumstances, Mr. Hollis had not insisted uponthe ordinary rules, and it was nearly midnight when the boys, havingtrudged back to camp, prepared to retire.
"What time is it, anyway, Dick?" yawned Bert, as they started toundress.
"I'll see," said Dick, as he reached for his watch; "it's just----"
He stopped aghast as the chain came out of his pocket with a jerk. Hiswatch was gone.
At this instant a shout came from Bob Ward's tent: "Say, fellows, haveany of you seen my scarfpin? I can't find it anywhere. I'm sure I had iton when I started."
Bert looked at Dick and Dick stared back at Bert. The same thought cameinto their minds at once.
"Stung," groaned Dick, as he sank down heavily on his bed.
At once the camp was in commotion. Everyone made a hasty inventory ofhis belongings and the relief was general when it was found that nothingelse was missing. Their hearts were hot with indignation, however, atthe loss of their comrades. Dick's gold watch had been a graduationpresent and Bob's scarfpin had held a handsome stone, so that the moneyloss was considerable. But deeper yet was the sense of chagrin voiced byJim Dawson:
"Well," said he, disgustedly, "if this isn't the limit. Here we are,city fellows who think we are up to snuff. We are surrounded bypickpockets every day and nothing happens. Then we come out in thecountry and are roasted brown by a band of wandering gipsies."
By this time Mr. Hollis, aroused by the unusual stir, had hastily dressedand joined the excited group. The facts were quickly detailed to him,and, as he listened, his face set in hard lines that boded ill for thethieves. He first directed that a thorough search be made in order to beperfectly sure that the missing articles were not somewhere about thecamp. When careful examination failed to reveal them, doubt becamecertainty. If only one thing had been lost it might have been set down tocarelessness or accident, but that two should disappear at the same timepointed to but one explanation--theft. And it was a foregone conclusionthat the thieves were to be found in the gipsy camp.
The more hot-headed were for starting out at once to regain the watchand pin at any cost. But this was vetoed by Mr. Hollis, who recognizedthe futility of attempting anything at so late an hour. He promised thatearly in the morning they should all go together, and with that promisethey were forced to be content.
There was very little sleep for the boys that night, and at the firststreak of dawn the whole camp was astir. Breakfast was swallowedhastily, and Bert whistled for Don as the boys made ready to start.
"Here, Don, old fellow, good dog," he called when the whistle failed tobring him; but no Don appeared. Then a thought suddenly struck Bert.When had he last seen the collie? In the excitement last night he andthe other boys had given no thought to the dog. He recalled with asudden sick feeling that he had last seen him in the light of the gipsytorches. His heart smote him for his forgetfulness. Was it possible thatthe gipsies had stolen Don also? Why not? He never would have stayedaway of his own accord. The collie was a splendid animal of the purestbreed and would easily bring a large price if offered for sale anywhere.A fierce rage flamed in Bert--a rage shared by all the others when hehastily told them of the suspicion that every moment was becoming aconviction--and it was lucky for the abductor of Don that he did not atthat moment meet Bert Wilson face to face.
With Dick, Tom and Bob, he leaped into the "Red Scout", and taking up Mr.Hollis as they came to the door of his tent, they swung into the broadhigh road, leaving the others to follow as fast as they could.
"Now, purr, old Scout," said Bert as he threw in the clutch; and the "RedScout" purred. It leaped forward like a living thing, as though it pulsedwith the indignation and determination of its riders. They fairly ate upthe three miles in as many minutes, turned the curve of the road justthis side of the gipsy camp and--
The camp was gone!
Gone as though it had dropped into the earth. Gone as though it hadmelted into the air. Utterly and completely gone. The ashes of lastnight's fires, some litter scattered here and there, alone remained tomark the spot that a few hours before had been so full of life andanimation.
They leaped from the car and scattered everywhere looking for signs toindicate the direction the caravan had taken. They had certainly notcome south by the boys' camp. It was equally certain that they had notgone directly north, as this led straight to a large town that theywould instinctively avoid. This narrowed the search to east and westroads, from which, however, many byroads diverged, so that it left themutterly at sea.
"The telephone," cried Bert; "let's try that first."
They bundled into the car and a few minutes brought them to the nearesttown. Picking out half a dozen addresses along different roads, theycalled them up. Had they seen a band of gipsies going by? The answer"No" came with exasperating monotony, until suddenly Bert leaped to hisfeet.
"Here we are, boys," he cried. "Bartlett on the Ashby road, eight milesfrom here, saw them go by two hours ago. Now let's get busy."
They flew down the Ashby road and in a few minutes came to the Bartlettfarm. Yes, they had passed there and they certainly were traveling some.A couple of miles further on the road forked. There was a negro cabin atthat place and they might get some information there. He hoped so,anyway. Good luck, and with a word of thanks, the boys rushed on.
A stout negress washing clothes under the tree at the fork of the roadwiped the suds from her hands with her apron as she came forward.
"Dey sholy did go pass hyar, gemmun, and dey wuz drivin' as do de oleNick was affer dem. Dat's a pow'ful po' road up dataway and der hosseswuz plum tired. Dey kain't be ve'y far ahaid, I specs."
Exultingly Bert threw in the high speed. Their quarry had been run downat last. The motor fairly sang as they plunged up the road. Turning acurve to the right they came upon the procession of carts, now toilingalong painfully. Bert never hes
itated a second, but rushed past the lineof wagons until he had reached the head of the caravan. Then he swungthe "Red Scout" squarely across the road and with Mr. Hollis, Dick, Tomand Bob, sprang to the ground.
Then he swung the "Red Scout" squarely across theroad.--(_See page 89_)]
Consternation plainly reigned in the halted carts. The men crowdedforward and hastily consulted. A moment later an old man, evidently thechief, came forward. He was prepared to try diplomacy first, and with aningratiating smile held out his hand to Mr. Hollis. The latter, ignoringthe extended hand, came straight to the point.
"I want three things," he said, "and unless you are looking for trouble,you'll hand them over at once. I want the pin and watch and dog yourpeople stole from us last night."
The leader's smile faded, to be replaced by an ominous scowl.
"It's a lie," he said sullenly, "my people stole nothing. Get out of ourroad," he snarled viciously, while his followers gathered threateninglyaround him.
The air was surcharged with danger and a fight seemed imminent, whensuddenly a familiar bark came from one of the vans. Bert dashed forward,thrusting aside a young gipsy who sprang to intercept him. He threw openthe van door, and out rushed Don, mad with delight. He had chewed inhalf the rope that held him and the frayed remnant hung about his neckas he leaped on Bert and capered frantically about him.
The game was up! Fear and chagrin were painted on the gipsies' faces.They might have bluffed through as regards the stolen articles and itwould have been almost impossible to prove their guilt. But here wasthe living proof of theft--proof strong enough to land their partybehind the bars. Moreover, the great dog was no mean addition to thelittle force that faced them so undauntedly. It was plainly up to themto temporize. As Bob with regrettable slanginess, but crisp brevity,summed up the case: "They had thought to make a quick touch and getaway,but fell down doing it."
The chief held up his hand. "Wait," he said, "while I talk to my people.Perhaps they have found something. I will see."
A whispered conversation followed and then he came forward sheepishly,holding out the watch and pin. "They found them on the grounds. I didnot know," he mumbled.
Mr. Hollis took them without a word and motioned Bert to get the autoready. He had gained his point and did not care to press his advantagefurther. After all, they were almost like irresponsible children, and,despite his resentment, he felt a deep pity for these half-wild sons ofpoverty and misfortune. Their code was not his code, nor their laws hislaws. They were the "under dogs" in the fight of life. Let them go.
The motor began to hum. The party piled in, with Don between them,barking joyfully, and they swept down the shabby line of carts with nota glance behind them. They waved gaily to the old black mammy, whobeamed upon them as they went by. A thought struck Bert, and turning toTom, he shouted:
"The dark lady, Tom. The dark lady that the gipsy prophesied would bringyou luck."
"Sure thing," grinned Tom. "It certainly is luck enough to get old Donback, to say nothing of the watch and pin. Isn't it, old fellow?" and hepatted the dog's head lovingly.
So thought the rest of the boys, also, when the "Red Scout" reached camp.Don was overwhelmed with caresses and strutted about as though he haddone it all. As Jim put it: "Napoleon on his return from Elba hadnothing on Don." It was late when the excitement subsided and thecampers went weary but happy to bed.
Mr. Hollis, Bert and Dick lingered about the fire. Only these older oneshad realized how ticklish a situation they had faced that day. Theydidn't like to think what might have happened if it had come to an openfight.
"The way you faced that crowd was the pluckiest thing I ever saw, Mr.Hollis," said Bert; "but suppose it had come to a showdown?"
"Well," laughed Mr. Hollis, "it was a case of touch and go for a minute.But I counted on the fact that we were right and they were wrong.'Conscience makes cowards of us all.' Behind us were law and order andcivilization. Behind them crowded nameless shapes of fear and dread thatrobbed their arms of strength and turned their hearts to water. It wassimply a confirmation," he concluded, as he rose to say good night, "ofthe eternal truth:
"'Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just.'"
Bert Wilson at the Wheel Page 8