THE GYPSY QUEEN’S MOVE
“Unless you want to queer the whole business, Lanky, you’ve got to hold
yourself in check better,” Frank said, cautiously, making sure that
none of the gypsy men was close enough to hear him whisper in this
fashion.
“That’s right,” muttered the other, in a penitent fashion. “I’m always
forgettin’ and blurtin’ things out. And it’s sure lucky for me I’ve got
you handy to put me wise to things. I’ll try and chuck it from now on,
Frank, believe me, I will.”
“Then laugh right now, and don’t look as sober as if you’d got word
your great-grandfather’d died, and forgot you in his will,” Frank went
on to say, jokingly. “Because I can see someone watching us from the
big wagon of the queen, right now. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s
spotted us as the two boys who were in the camp that other time, and
means to keep tabs on us.”
“Oh! I’ll be on my guard, I promise you, Frank,” Lanky went on to say,
with his teeth tightly clenched. “It’s a shame to upset all our fine
work by a mistake on my part. But do we turn away now; or hang around
the camp a little, to see if we can’t get a peep at that girl?”
“Might as well stay here a while,” was the reply his chum made. “It’d
look sort of queer if we pushed along in too big a hurry. What we want
to do is to act natural, and do what any fellow would be apt to, if he
just happened along.”
So they walked over to the camp. Most of the gypsies had returned by
now. After being so familiar with the two boys, and receiving such
important information from them, they seemed to look at Frank and Lanky
in rather a friendly way. The boys might wander all about now, and see
whatever they wanted, without being greeted by the usual black scowls.
“Say, Frank,” remarked Lanky, presently, as they were watching some of
the women hang a black kettle over a fire by means of a chain, that had
a hook at one end, the other being secured to a stout iron bar above.
“Well, what is it now?” asked his companion, without turning his head,
as he found himself very much interested in the operation.
“She’s beckonin’ to us!” Lanky continued, in a somewhat awed voice.
“Who do you mean?” asked Frank, beginning to take notice.
“The old lady, the queen bee of the hive, you know,” replied the other.
At that Frank turned his head.
“That’s right, she is,” he remarked; “and we’ll have to step over that
way, Lanky. Now, keep your wits about you, and don’t give yourself
away. Like as not she only wants to ask us some questions about the
athletic meet.”
They started toward the place where the old queen sat on a three-legged
stool, close to the steps leading up to the rear of the huge, painted
van that served as her house, as well as means of conveyance over the
roads.
Lanky felt sure he would now find some sort of opportunity for proving
whether his belief about the little girl could be founded on facts, or
imagination. At the same time he was inwardly resolved to let Frank do
most of the talking, content on his own part to just “look around.”
“You are the boy who brought me the paper to sign; am I right?” asked
the gypsy queen, as Frank reached her side.
“Yes, we were here the other day, and brought that paper,” he replied.
“My men have been telling me much about some sort of circus that will
be in your town this week; and they said you could explain what it
was?” she continued, keeping her sharp black eyes fastened on their
faces.
“Why, yes, sure we can,” Lanky spoke up. “Frank, oblige the lady; I’m
talked out.”
So Frank did explain about the rivalries of the three schools, and how
they came together at various times to find out which could excel in
all sorts of sports such as healthy boys like.
He described these things so well that he really interested the gypsy
woman. She could understand how boys liked such sports, for the lads of
the camp were always wrestling, boxing, shooting, or fishing, as the
chance arose.
Lanky could not keep his eyes away from the big wagon. It seemed to him
that he heard some sort of slight movement within the van; and no doubt
he was picturing in his mind the frightened, yet eager, little girl
crouching there, wanting to show herself to them, yet shrinking from
arousing the anger of the black-eyed old queen.
“Your friend seems to be interested in my new wagon,” remarked the
gypsy, suddenly, and Lanky started, fearing that he had betrayed a
fatal curiosity; but he drew a breath of relief when she continued,
using language that surprised Frank, as it told him the woman must have
a certain amount of education: “If you would like, I will be glad to
show you how it is arranged inside. It is what they call the last thing
in road wagons. And you have been kind to tell my people about the
chance of trading horses in the crowd that is coming to the circus.”
Frank saw her eyes sparkle while she was saying this. He immediately
guessed that she had a very good reason for talking in that way, though
he could not understand what it might be.
“If you don’t mind,” he remarked, showing a fair amount of eagerness,
“we would like to see how it is fixed inside. I’ve never really
examined one of these road wagons, and always wanted to.”
“Come inside with me, then, both of you,” continued the queen, rising
from her stool, and starting up the three steps leading to the closed
door.
Frank heard Lanky draw a long breath. He laid a hand on the other’s arm
as they started after the gypsy woman; and Lanky understood that this
was meant for a warning to him.
“All right, Frank,” he muttered, calming down again.
When the door of the big van had been opened, the interior was exposed
to view. And the first thing the two lads discovered was a girl of
about eight or nine years of age, sitting curled up on a cushion. She
had big dark eyes, and hair that was almost purplish black. Her skin
was as dusky as that of any of the men.
“This is my grandchild,” explained the old woman, with something
like pride in her voice, for the girl was decidedly handsome, though
very bold looking. “When I die she will be the queen after me. It is
understood by the tribe. She comes of royal blood, does Mena.”
Then she began to explain what the many appliances were for, that they
saw in the wagon. The girl seemed to understand that she had better go
away while the old queen was telling these two town boys about her new
van, for she left the vehicle.
Lanky followed her with his eyes. Frank could see a puzzled expression
on the face of his chum, and that he was shaking his head, as though
unable to make out how he had come to mistake a girl like that for a
little thing begging for his assistance.
Evidently Lanky’s ambition had dropped until it was now very near the
zero mark.
Frank was genuinely interested in all the wonderful arrangements which
the new traveling van had for sleeping, cooking, and even writing;
though a gypsy is not supposed to do much of this last.
He asked numerous questions, just as the men had done when seeking
information concerning the coming athletic contests. And the old woman
did not seem at all averse about telling him whatever he wanted to know.
Frank, however, was not so wrapped up in his desire to learn facts
but what he could use his eyes to good advantage. And he noticed that
several times while she was thus explaining things, the old gypsy would
shoot a triumphant glance over in the direction of Lanky.
Apparently she must have guessed something of the motive that
influenced that Columbia High student to wander out to the camp on this
Sunday afternoon. And no doubt she was chuckling to herself over her
success in hoodwinking Lanky. His blank face gave her satisfaction,
Frank felt sure. And he believed he knew the reason for it, too.
After spending at least fifteen minutes in the big van talking with the
owner, who seemed much more intelligent than Frank had ever believed
any gypsy could be, the boys made a move as if to go.
“Will you come again?” she asked, seeming to direct the query toward
Lanky; and that worthy took it upon himself to reply.
“I hardly think so. You see, we’re in the big run that winds up the
meet, and after school we’ll have to be practicing, so as to keep in
condition. Besides,” with a sigh, “I guess we’ve seen _everything_
now.”
Lanky was plainly much disheartened as he started to leave the gypsy
camp. He even failed to answer the parting remarks from several of
the men, who seemed to rather look upon the two boys in the light
of friends, after receiving so much information that promised to be
valuable to them as horse traders. And so Frank had to wave a good-bye
for both of them.
They walked down the road side by side, heading toward the town. Lanky
appeared to be wrapped up in his gloomy thoughts, and presently Frank
gave him a sly punch in the ribs, bringing out a grunt.
“What ails you, old chum?” demanded Frank, in a joking tone. “You pull
a long enough face to stand for seven first-class funerals.”
“It’s all off, Frank!” grumbled the other.
“Oh! you mean the little racket you were working; is that what makes
you look so sad?” demanded Frank.
“I was foolish and that’s the trouble!” said Lanky savagely.
“Well, I don’t like to dispute a gentleman’s word, when he’s bent on
giving an opinion of himself; but I’d like to know why you say that?”
Frank remarked.
“To think that I’d mistake that half-grown gypsy girl for a little one
has me badgered some, I tell you, Frank.”
“Perhaps after all, Lanky, you didn’t make such a big mistake as you
think!”
“What’s that you’re giving me, Frank; not taffy, I hope?” cried the
tall boy, as he whirled around on his companion, eagerly.
“There may have been a small child in that wagon, Lanky, when we first
came near the gypsy camp. I didn’t tell you before; but the fact is,
I sure saw the old woman hustle some little figure, bundled in a red
shawl, down those three steps, and then another gypsy woman lead her
off into the woods!”
“Oh! Frank, is that so?” burst from the delighted Lanky, his eyes
sparkling once more with renewed interest. “You saw all that, did you,
when we were talking with the gypsy men? Aren’t you the swift bunch,
though, to get on to everything, while I stand around with my mouth
open, but my eyes stuck fast? Then she sent the little girl away, and
asked us to take a look around in her wagon just to pull the wool over
my eyes? And, Frank, she’d ’a’ done it for me, right up to the notch,
only for you being so smart!”