"Don't be a wet blanket, Amy. Anyway, just because they are gypsies they
needn't be murderers."
"I'm not a----" Amy was beginning, when Allen hissed a sharp warning.
"Keep still, everybody," he said. "They are not a hundred yards away!"
After that silence reigned, broken only occasionally by a nervous
whisper from one of the girls as they watched the approach of the
enemy--or so they regarded them--with breathless interest.
There were about twenty in the group, of which the majority were men. As
they came nearer, the girls and boys could see how greatly their ages
varied. Some were old men with white hair and flowing beards, while
others were young striplings scarcely out of boyhood. Their clothes were
many hued and picturesque, while each one carried on his back a huge
bundle. They traveled along the bank, speaking in a low mellow tone, a
language which the Outdoor Girls and the boys had never heard before.
Grace crowded close to Betty, and the Little Captain squeezed her arm
reassuringly. "I kind of like them," she whispered. "They look so
interesting. They look like bandits or----"
Frank's hand closed abruptly over her mouth--for low as her tone had
been the gypsies were near enough now to hear the slightest whisper.
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