“Where is he; that wicked man you are to marry?” cried Bessie, fiercely, springing to her feet, and advancing upon the trembling gypsy girl.  “You shall tell me, or I will—­”

She seized the gypsy girls shoulders, and shook her, before she realized that the girl, whose eyes were filled with tears, probably knew as little as she herself.  Then, repentant, she released her shoulders, but repeated her question.

“You mean John, my man?” said the girl, a quiver in her tones.  “I do not know, he was not at the camp last night.  I was afraid.  I think he does not love me any more.”

Something about the way she spoke made Bessie pity her.

“What is your name?” she asked.

“Lolla,” said the gypsy.

“I believe you do not know, Lolla,” said Bessie, kindly.  “And you do not want him to be sent to prison, perhaps for years and years, do you?  You love this John?”

“Prison?  They would send him there?  What for?  No, no—­yes, I love him.  Do you know where he is; where he was last night?”

“I know where he was last night, Lolla, yes.  He came to our camp and carried my friend away.  You remember, the one who was with me yesterday, when we looked at your camp?  That is why I am looking for him.  He says he will make her marry him later on; that he will keep her with your tribe until she is ready.”

Lolla’s tears ceased suddenly, and there was a gleam of passionate anger in her eyes.

“He will do that?” she said, angrily.  “My brothers, they will kill him if he does that.  He is to marry me, we are betrothed.  You do not know where he is?  You would like to find your friend?”

“I must, Lolla.”

“Then I will help you, if you will help me.  Will you?”

Lolla looked intently at Bessie, as if she were trying to tell from her eyes whether she really meant what she said.

“Oh, I wish I knew whether you are good; whether you speak the truth,” cried the gypsy girl, passionately.  “That other girl, your friend.  She wants my John.  So—­”

Bessie, serious as the situation was, could not help laughing.

“Listen, Lolla,” she said.  “You mustn’t think that.  Dolly—­that’s my friend—­thinks John is good looking, perhaps, but she hasn’t even thought of marrying anyone yet, oh, for years.  She’s too young.  We don’t get married as early as you.  So you may be sure that if John has her, all she wants is to get away and get back to her friends.”

Lolla’s eyes lighted with relief.

“That is good,” she said.  “Then I will help, for that is what I want, too.  I do not want her to live in the tribe, and to be with us.  You are sure John has taken her?”

Then Bessie told her of the face they had seen in the flashlight, and of how Dolly had been spirited away from the camp fire afterward.  And as she spoke, she was surprised to see that Lolla’s eyes shone, as if she were delighted by the recital.