“I know what he told you,” she said slowly.  “He said that the fire came from a spirit that was guiding him, and was trying to help him.  But he only said that because he did not understand.  It meant just the opposite; that it would be better for him to go home, and forget the wicked plot he had thought of.”

Peter seemed to be weakening, but Lolla tossed her head again.

“Are you a baby?  Do you think that is true?” she said to him.  “Don’t you see that she is only trying to frighten you, as she did with the knife?”

“Indeed I am not,” said Bessie, earnestly.  “I am not angry with you, any more than I am afraid of you now.  If you stay here something dreadful will happen to you both.  You would not like to go to prison, would you, and stay there all through this summer, and the next winter, and the summer of next year, when you might be traveling the road with your brothers?”

“Make them keep quiet, Peter,” cried Lolla, furiously.  “She is quite right There is danger here, but it comes from her friends.  She thinks that if she can fool us into letting her talk, they may pass by and hear her voice.”

“You keep quiet,” said Peter, doggedly, evidently deciding that, this time, he could safely obey Lolla’s orders, and quite ready to do so.  “If you make any more noise I will—­”

He left the sentence uncompleted, but a savage gesture showed what he meant.  He had a stout stick, and this he now swung with a threatening air.

Bessie had hoped to work on the superstitious nature of the gypsy man, and to frighten him, perhaps, if she had good luck, into letting her go off with Dolly.  But Lolla’s interference had put that out of the question.  She turned sadly to Dolly, to see her companion’s eyes twinkling.

“Never you mind, Bessie,” she said.  “They’re stupid, anyhow.  And as long as they don’t tie us up we’re all right.  I’d just as soon be here as anywhere.  Someone will go along that trail presently looking for us, and when they do we can shout.  They’ll probably make a noise themselves, so as to let us know they are near.  And I’m not frightened any more; really I’m not.”

But Bessie, tired and disappointed, was nearer to giving in than she had been since the moment when she had awakened and found that Dolly was missing.  She felt that she ought to have distrusted Lolla; that she had made a great mistake in thinking, even for a moment, that the gypsy girl meant to betray her own people.

Then suddenly a strange thing happened.  A new voice, that belonged to none of the four who were in the clearing, suddenly broke the silence.  It seemed to come from a tree directly over the heads of Lolla and Peter, and, as it spoke, they stared upward with one accord, listening intently to what it said.

“Will you make me come down and punish you?” said the voice.  It was that of an old, old man, feeble with age, but still clear.

Bessie stared too, as surprised as the gypsy, and the voice went on: