IN THE GYPSY CAMP
Ruth remembered what Roberto had said about his miserly grandmother. She
believed these people who had offered her and Helen a ride were of the
same tribe as Roberto, and the way Queen Zelaya spoke, caused the girl
to believe that this old woman and Roberto's grandmother were one and
the same person.
She could say nothing to Helen at the moment. Personally she felt more
afraid of this Gypsy Queen than she had of the two rough men in the
abandoned house that afternoon!
"Come!" repeated Zelaya. "Tell me of all the riches and jewels--the gold
and silver-plates you eat from, the jewelry you have to wear, the rich
silks--all of it! I love to hear of such things," exclaimed the woman,
grinning again in her terrible way.
Helen opened her lips to speak, but Ruth pinched her. "Tell her
nothing," the girl of the Red Mill whispered. "I am afraid we have said
too much already."
"Why?" queried Helen, wonderingly.
"Pshaw! this old woman can't hurt us. Isn't she funny?"
"Speak up, my little ladies!" commanded Queen Zelaya. "My will is law
here. Do not forget that."
"I guess your will isn't much law to _us_," replied Helen, laughing and
tossing her head. "You see, we do not know you----"
"You shall!" hissed the horrible old creature, suddenly stretching forth
one of her claw-like hands. "Come here!"
Ruth seized her friend tightly. Helen was laughing, but suddenly she
stopped. The queen's terrible eyes seemed to hold the girl in a spell.
Involuntarily Helen's limbs bore her toward the far end of the van.
The girl's face became pale; her own eyes protruded from their sockets;
the Gypsy Queen charmed her, just as a snake is said to charm a young
bird in its nest.
But Ruth sprang after her, seized Helen's arm again, and shook her.
"You stop that!" she cried, to the old woman. "Don't you mind her,
Helen. She has some wicked power in her eyes, my dear!"
Her cry broke the hypnotic spell the woman had cast over Helen Cameron.
The latter sank down, trembling and sobbing, with her hands over her
face.
"Oh, dear, Ruthie! I wish we hadn't gotten into this wagon," she moaned.
"I am sure I wish so, too," returned her chum, in a low voice, while the
old woman rocked herself to and fro in her seat, and cackled her horrid
laughter.
"Aren't we ever going to get to that town? Tom said it was only two
miles or a little over."
"I wish we could speak to that other woman," muttered Ruth.
"Do you suppose this old thing is crazy?" whispered Helen.
"Worse than that," returned Ruth. "I am afraid of them all. I don't
believe they mean us well. Let's get out, Helen."
"Oh! where shall we go?" returned her friend, in a tone quite as soft as
Ruth's own.
"We must be somewhere near the town."
"It is pitch dark outside the windows," complained Helen.
"Let's try it. Pitch dark is not as bad as this wicked old creature----"
The hag laughed again, although she was not looking at them. Surely she
could not hear the girls' whispers, yet her cackling laugh sent a shiver
over both girls. It was just as though Queen Zelaya, as she called
herself, could read what was in their minds.
"Yes, yes!" whispered Helen, with sudden eagerness in her voice. "You
are right. We will go."
"We'll slip out without anybody but the old woman seeing us----Then
we'll run!"
Ruth jumped up suddenly and stepped to the door at the rear of the van.
She turned the knob and tried to open it. _The door was fastened upon
the outside!_
Again the old woman broke into her cackling laugh. "Oh, no! oh, no!" she
cried. "The pretty, rich little ladies cannot go yet. They must be the
guests of the poor old Gypsy a little longer--they must eat of her salt.
Then they will be her friends--and maybe they will help to make her
rich."
The girls stood close together, panting, afraid. Helen put her lips to
Ruth's ear, and whispered:
"Does _that_ mean she is going to hold us for ransom? Oh, dear! what did
I say this very day? I _knew_ Gypsies were like this."
"Hush!" warned Ruth. "Try and not let her see you are so afraid. Perhaps
she means only to frighten us."
"But--but when she looks at me, I seem to lose everything--speech, power
to move, even power to think," gasped Helen.
Just then the van turned suddenly from the road and came to a halt. They
had been traveling much faster than Ruth and Helen had supposed.
Lights flashed outside, and dogs barked, while the voices of men, women
and children rose in a chorus of shouts and cries.
"Oh, thank goodness!" exclaimed Helen. "They have gotten into town at
last."
Ruth feared this was not so. She tried to peer out of one of the
windows. There was a bonfire at one side, and she thought she saw a
tent. There were other wagons like the one in which they seemed to be
imprisoned.
"Now they'll _have_ to let us out," repeated Helen.
"I am afraid not," returned the girl of the Red Mill. "This is the Gypsy
camp, I am sure, dear. Do try to be brave! I think they never meant to
take us after Tom, at all. We are prisoners, dear."
At once Helen's spirits sank, but she grew angry.
"You'd better not keep us here," she cried, looking again at the old
woman. "My father has plenty of money and he will spend it all to get me
back--and to punish you."
"We will not take all his money from him, my pretty little lady,"
returned Zelaya. "Only a part of it. And the poor Gypsy has nothing,"
and once more she cackled.
The door of the van was unlocked and opened. In the lamplight appeared a
rough-looking man, with an evil face and a squint in one eye. He said
something to the queen in their own tongue, but he spoke with great
respect, and removed his hat and bowed to her, when she replied.
Ruth and Helen started for the door, but the man motioned them back and
scowled at them in an evil manner. They could see a crowd of curious
faces without, and behind this man were children, women both old and
young, and a few men.
Zelaya lifted the child from its bed, and passed her into the arms of
the woman who had guided Ruth and Helen to the van. She smiled upon the
girls just as pleasantly as before, but now they knew that she was false
and cruel.
Then the queen waved her hand and the door was closed. "You remain with
me to-night, little ladies. Oh! Zelaya would let nothing trouble
you--no, no!"
Helen burst into wild sobs at this, and threw herself upon the floor of
the van. Ruth faced the old woman with wrathful sparks in her brown
eyes.
"You are acting very foolishly, indeed, whoever you are. You Gypsies
cannot carry things with such a high hand in this State of New York.
You'll find out----"
"I am Zelaya, the Queen," interrupted the old hag, hoarsely. "Have a
care! I will put a spell upon you, little lady----"
"Pooh! you can't frighten me that way," declared Ruth Fielding. "I am
not afraid of your spells, or your fortune telling, or any of your
foolish magic. If you believe in any of it yourself, you have not gained
much wisdom all the years you have lived."
"You do not fear the arts of my people?" repeated Zelaya, trying to hold
Ruth with her eye as she had Helen.
"No, I do not. I fear your wickedness. And I know you must be very
dishonest and cruel. But you have no more supernatural power than I have
myself!"
Zelaya's wrinkled face suddenly reddened with passion. She raised her
claw-like hand and struck the bold girl sharply upon the cheek.
"Impudence!" she muttered.
"And _that_ is nothing supernatural," said Ruth, with continued
boldness, although the blow had hurt her--leaving its mark. "You are
breaking the laws of the land, which are far more powerful than any
Gypsy law----"
"Wait!" commanded the woman, threateningly. "You will learn yet, bold
girl, how strong our laws are."
She went back to her stool, mumbling to herself. Ruth lifted Helen into
one of the berths, and sat down beside her. By and by the door of the
van opened again and a bold-looking young woman--not the one that had
brought them to the van--came in with three wooden bowls of a savory
stew. She offered the tray to the visitors at a motion from old Zelaya,
so that they had their choice before the queen received her own supper.
"Let's eat it," whispered Ruth to Helen, when she saw that Zelaya
plunged her own tin spoon into the stew. "It surely isn't drugged, or
_she_ wouldn't touch it."
They ate greedily, for both were hungry. It takes more than fear to
spoil the healthy appetite of youth!
"Do you suppose," whispered Helen, "that we could climb out of one of
these windows after she falls asleep?"
"I am sure I couldn't get through one," returned Ruth. "And I doubt if
you could. Besides, there will be guards, and the dogs are awake. We've
got to wait for help from outside, my dear."
"Do you suppose Tom will find us?"
"I hope not!" exclaimed Ruth. "Not while he is alone. But he certainly
will give the alarm, and the whole countryside will be aroused."
"Oh, dear, me! this old woman seems so sure that she can hold us
captive."
"I think she is crazy," Ruth declared. "And the other Gypsies must lack
good sense, too, or they would not be governed by her."
The queen gobbled down her supper and then prepared to retire to her own
bunk. She told the girls to do the same, and they removed their shoes
and outer garments and lay down--one on one side of the wagon, and one
on the other.
Ruth's head was toward the door. She could watch the movements of the
old Gypsy woman. Zelaya did not go to sleep at all, but seemed to be
waiting for the camp to get quiet and for her two visitors to fall into
slumber.
She kept raising her head and looking first at Helen, then at Ruth. The
latter knew by her chum's breathing that, despite her fears, Helen had
fallen asleep almost instantly.
So Ruth began to breathe deeply and regularly, too. She closed her
eyes--almost entirely. This was what Zelaya had been waiting for.
Silently the old woman arose and turned up the lampwick a little. She
knelt down before one of the padlocked boxes and unlocked it softly.
Then she rummaged in the box--seemingly beneath a lot of rubbish that
filled it, and drew forth a japanned box--like a cashbox. This was
locked, too, and Zelaya wore the key of it on a string about her neck.
Silently, with a glance at the two girls now and then, she unlocked
this box and opened it on the top of the chest, before which she knelt.
Ruth could see the old woman's face. It changed very much as she gazed
upon what was in the japanned box. Her black eyes glowed, and her gray,
thin lips were wreathed in a smile of delight.
Again Ruth remembered Roberto's account of his grandmother. She was a
miser, and he had mentioned that he had seen her at night gloating over
her hoarded wealth.
Surely Zelaya had all the signs of a miser. The next moment Ruth saw
that the old woman verily possessed something worth gloating over.
She lifted from the interior of the box a string of flashing gems--a
broad band, or necklace, of them, in fact--and let them flow through her
fingers in a stream of sparkling light. They were beautiful, beautiful
pearls--a really wonderful necklace of them!
Ruth held her breath for a moment. The queen turned suddenly and shot a
keen, suspicious glance at her. The girl knew enough to cough, turn
slightly, and recommence her steady breathing.
The old woman had dropped the pearls in haste. Now she picked them up
again, and went on with her silent worship of the gems.
Ruth did not startle her again; but she saw something that made her own
heart beat faster and brought the perspiration out upon her limbs.
Above the old woman's head, and behind her, was a window. Pressed close
to the pane of the window Ruth saw a face--dark, evil, be-mustached. It
was one of the Gypsy men.
She remembered now what she had overheard between the two supposed
tramps who had taken shelter in the deserted house during the tempest.
Was _this_ one of those two ruffians? And was he the one who had railed
at the division of some stolen treasure, and had spoken with
covetousness of the beautiful pearls?
The thought made Ruth tremble. His wicked face withdrew, but all the
time the Gypsy queen was admiring the necklace, Ruth felt that the evil
eyes of the man were also gloating over the pearls.