but the sight of his grinning face, when she had been
so sure that their troubles were over at last, was too much for her.

She sank down on a log beside Dolly, and hid her face in her hands,
beginning to cry. Most men, no matter how bad, would have been moved to
pity by the sight of her sufferings. But John was not.

"Don't cry," he said, with mock sympathy. "I am not going to treat you
badly. You shall stay in the woods with me. I have a good hiding place,
a place where your friends will never find you until I am ready. You are
tired. So am I. We will rest here. It is quite safe. A party of your
friends passed this way five minutes ago. They will not come again--not
soon. I was within a few feet of them, but they did not see me."

Bessie groaned at the news. Had they only reached the place five minutes
earlier, then, they would have been safe. She was struck by an idea,
however, and lifted her voice in a shout for aid. In a moment the
gypsy's hand covered her mouth and he was snarling in her ear.

"None of that," he said, grittingly, "or I will find a way to make you
keep still. You must do as I tell you now, or it will be the worse for
you. Will you promise to keep quiet?"

Bessie realized that there was no telling what this man would do if she
did not promise--and keep her promise. He was cleverer than Peter, and,
therefore, much more dangerous. She felt, somehow, that the trick which
had worked so well when Dolly had used it before would be of no avail
now. He might even understand it; he was most unlikely, she was sure, to
yield to superstitious terror as Peter and Lolla had done. And, leaning
over to Dolly, she whispered to her.

"Don't try that trick, Dolly. You see, if the others had dared the voice
to do something they would have found out that there was really nothing
to be afraid of--and I'm afraid he'd wait. It may be useful again, but
not with him, now. If we tried it, and it didn't work--"

"I understand," Dolly whispered back. "I think you are right, too,
Bessie. We'd be worse off than ever. I was thinking that if only some of
the other gypsies were here we might frighten them so much with it that
they'd make him let us go."

"Yes. We'll save it for that."

The gypsy was still breathing hard. He looked at the two girls
malignantly, but he saw that they were too tired to walk much unless he
let them rest, and, purely out of policy, and not at all because he was
sorry for them, and for the hardsh