For some time they gathered the blossoms, and were just about to return to the aeroplanes and resume their journey when Peggy uttered a sudden sharp exclamation: 

“Hark!  What’s that?” she cried.

They all listened.  Again came the sound that had arrested her attention; a sharp cry, as if some one was in pain or fright.

Then came definite words: 

“Don’t!  Please; don’t hit me again!”

“It’s a child!” exclaimed Jimsy.

“A girl!” cried Peggy, “some one is ill-treating her.”

“We’ll soon find out!” cried Roy hotly.  It infuriated the boy to think that a child was being subjected to ill-treatment, and the nature of the cries left no doubt that such was the case.

“Stand back here, girls, while we see what’s up!” struck in Jimsy.

“Indeed we’ll do no such thing!” rejoined the plucky Bess, bridling indignantly.

“At any rate let us go in advance,” advised Roy; “we don’t know just what we may run up against.”

This appeared reasonable even to Bess, and with the boys slightly in advance the little group pressed rapidly forward.  After traveling about two hundred yards they found themselves in a small clearing where a most unusual sight presented itself; a sight that brought a quick flash of indignation to the face of every one of them.

Cowering under the blows of a tall, swarthy woman was a small girl, so fragile as to appear almost elfin.  The woman wore the garb of a gipsy, and the presence of some squalid tents and tethered horses showed our young friends at once that it was a gipsy encampment upon which they had happened.

The woman was so intent on belaboring the shrieking child that at first she did not see the newcomers.  It was not till Roy stepped up to her, in fact, that she became aware of their presence.

“What are you doing to this child?” demanded Roy indignantly.

“That’s none of your business,” was the retort, as the woman for an instant released her hold on the child.

Instantly the little creature darted to the sheltering arms of Peggy, sobbing piteously.

“Oh!  Save me from her, she will kill me,” the child cried, in a broken voice.

“There! there!” soothed Peggy tenderly, “don’t cry.  We won’t let her harm you any more.”

But like a fury the woman flew at the girls.  Before she could lay hands on them, however, Roy and Jimsy had seized her arms and held them.  At this the crone set up a hideous shriek and, as if it had been a signal, two swarthy men, with dark skins and big earrings in their ears, came running from behind the tents.

“What’s the trouble?” they cried, as they ran up, regarding the boys malevolently.

“It’s the Wren; they’re trying to steal the Wren!” shrilled out the woman.

At this the men rushed at the boys, one of them waving a thick cudgel he carried.

“Let go of that woman,” they shouted furiously.