TIGER.
It was still very, very early in the morning, and the gypsy folk, tired
from their march on the preceding day, slept. There stood the conical,
queer-shaped tents, four in number; at a little distance off grazed the
donkeys and a couple of rough mules; at the door of the tents lay
stretched out in profound repose two or three dogs.
Annie dreaded the barking of the dogs, although she guessed that if they
set up a noise, and a gypsy wife or man put out their heads in
consequence, they would only desire the gypsy child to lie down and keep
quiet.
She stood still for a moment--she was very anxious to prowl around the
place and examine the ground while the gypsies still slept, but the
watchful dogs deterred her. She stood perfectly quiet behind the
hedgerow, thinking hard. Should she trust to a charm she knew she
possessed, and venture into the encampment? Annie had almost as great a
fascination over dogs and cats as she had over children. As a little
child going to visit with her mother at strange houses, the watch-dogs
never barked at her; on the contrary, they yielded to the charm which
seemed to come from her little fingers as she patted their great heads.
Slowly their tails would move backward and forward as she patted them,
and even the most ferocious would look at her with affection.
Annie wondered if the gypsy dogs would now allow her to approach without
barking. She felt that the chances were in her favor; she was dressed in
gypsy garments, there would be nothing strange in her appearance, and if
she could get near one of the dogs she knew that she could exercise the
magic of her touch.
Her object, then, was to approach one of the tents very, very quietly--so
softly that even the dog's ears should not detect the light footfall. If
she could approach close enough to put her hand on the dog's neck all
would be well. She pulled off the gypsy maid's rough shoes, hid them in
the grass where she could find them again, and came gingerly step by
step, nearer and nearer the principal tent. At its entrance lay a
ferocious-looking half-bred bull-dog. Annie possessed that necessary
accompaniment to courage--great outward calm; the greater the danger, the
more cool and self-possessed did she become. She was within a step or two
of the tent when she trod accidentally on a small twig; it cracked,
giving her foot a sharp pain, and very slight as the sound was, causing
the bull-dog to awake. He raised his wicked face, saw the figure like his
own people, and yet unlike, but a step or two away, and, uttering a low
growl, sprang forward.
In the ordinary course of things this growl would have risen in volume
and would have terminated in a volley of barking; but Annie was prepared:
she went down on her knees, held out her arms, said, "Poor fellow!" in
her own seductive voice, and the bull-dog fawned at her feet. He licked
one of her hands while she patted him gently with the other.
"Come, poor fellow," she said then in a gentle tone, and Annie and the
dog began to perambulate round the tents.
The other dogs raised sleepy eyes, but seeing Tiger and the girl
together, took no notice whatever, except by a thwack or two of their
stumpy tails. Annie was now looking not only at the tents, but for
something else which Zillah, her nurse, had told her might be found near
to many gypsy encampments. This was a small subterranean passage, which
generally led into a long-disused underground Danish fort. Zillah had
told her what uses the gypsies liked to make of these underground
passages, and how they often chose those which had two entrances. She
told her that in this way they eluded the police, and were enabled
successfully to hide the goods which they stole. She had also described
to her their great ingenuity in hiding the entrances to these underground
retreats.
Annie's idea now was that little Nan was hidden in one of these vaults,
and she determined first to make sure of its existence, and then to
venture herself into this underground region in search of the lost child.
She had made a decided conquest in the person of Tiger, who followed her
round and round the tents, and when the gypsies at last began to stir,
and Annie crept into the hedgerow, the dog crouched by her side. Tiger
was the favorite dog of the camp, and presently one of the men called to
him; he rose unwillingly, looked back with longing eyes at Annie, and
trotted off, to return in the space of about five minutes with a great
hunch of broken bread in his mouth. This was his breakfast, and he meant
to share it with his new friend. Annie was too hungry to be fastidious,
and she also knew the necessity of keeping up her strength. She crept
still farther under the hedge, and the dog and girl shared the broken
bread between them.
Presently the tents were all astir; the gypsy children began to swarm
about, the women lit fires in the open air, and the smell of very
appetizing breakfasts filled the atmosphere. The men also lounged into
view, standing lazily at the doors of their tents, and smoking great
pipes of tobacco. Annie lay quiet. She could see from her hiding-place
without being seen. Suddenly--and her eyes began to dilate, and she found
her heart beating strangely--she laid her hand on Tiger, who was
quivering all over.
"Stay with me, dear dog," she said.
There was a great commotion and excitement in the gypsy camp; the
children screamed and ran into the tents, the women paused in their
preparation for breakfast, the men took their short pipes out of their
mouths; every dog, with the exception of Tiger, barked ferociously. Tiger
and Annie alone were motionless.
The cause of all this uproar was a body of police, about six in number,
who came boldly into the field, and demanded instantly to search the
tents.
"We want a woman who calls herself Mother Rachel," they said. "She
belongs to this encampment. We know her; let her come forward at once; we
wish to question her."
The men stood about; the women came near; the children crept out of their
tents, placing their fingers to their frightened lips, and staring at the
men who represented those horrors to their unsophisticated minds called
Law and Order.
"We must search the tents. We won't stir from the spot until we have had
an interview with Mother Rachel," said the principal member of the police
force.
The men answered respectfully that the gypsy mother was not yet up; but
if the gentlemen would wait a moment she would soon come and speak to
them.
The officers expressed their willingness to wait, and collected round the
tents.
Just at this instant, under the hedgerow, Tiger raised his head. Annie's
watchful eyes accompanied the dog's. He was gazing after a tiny gypsy
maid who was skulking along the hedge, and who presently disappeared
through a very small opening into the neighboring field.
Quick as thought Annie, holding Tiger's collar, darted after her. The
little maid heard the footsteps; but seeing another gypsy girl, and their
own dog, Tiger, she took no further notice, but ran openly and very
swiftly across the field until she came to a broken wall. Here she tugged
and tugged at some loose stones, managed to push one away, and then
called down into the ground:
"Mother Rachel!"
"Come, Tiger," said Annie. She flew to a hedge not far off, and once more
the dog and she hid themselves. The small girl was too excited to notice
either their coming or going; she went on calling anxiously into the
ground:
"Mother Rachel! Mother Rachel!"
Presently a black head and a pair of brawny shoulders appeared, and the
tall woman whose face and figure Annie knew so well stepped up out of the
ground, pushed back the stones into their place, and, taking the gypsy
child into her arms, ran swiftly across the field in the direction of the
tents.