This silenced Marjorie, for there was no answer to such a question.  Her rage had spent itself in her impetuous speech, and she knew of course that two children could not get away from this band of villains if they were not allowed to do so.  But she did not cry.  Her feelings were too wrought up for that.  She sat where they had placed her, and tried bravely to conceal the fright and fear that were every moment growing stronger within her.  She gave one imploring glance at King, and he came over and sat beside her.  He took her hand in a tight clasp, implying that whatever happened they would face it together.

“Keep ’em there for the present,” growled the man who seemed to be the spokesman, and then he and the other man went away, leaving the children in care of the three gypsy women.

Although apparently the women paid little attention to their young prisoners, King and Midget could easily see that the eyes of their jailers were ever alert, and watching their slightest movement.  Had they tried to cut and run, they would have been caught before they reached the door.  But no heed was paid when they whispered together, and so they were able to hold a long conversation which was unheard, and even unnoticed by the others.

“You know, Mops, what has happened?” whispered King.

“No, I don’t; what do they want of us?”

“Why, we’re kidnapped and held for ransom.  Those men have probably gone out now to send letters to Father about the ransom money.”

“Oh, then Father’ll pay it, and we’ll get away.”

“It isn’t so easy as that.  They have lots of fussing back and forth.  We may be here a long time.  I say, Mops, you’re a brick not to cry.”

“I’m too mad to cry.  The idea of their keeping us here like this!  It’s outrageous!  Why, King, by this time we would have been in Pelton.  Just think how worried Father and Mother must be!”

“Don’t think about that, Mops, or you will cry sure.  And I will, too!  Let’s think how to get away.”

But thinking was of little use, as there was no way to get away but to run out at the door, and an attempt at that would be such certain failure that it was not worth trying.

So the children sat there in dumb misery, silently watching the gypsy women as they moved about preparing the mid-day meal.

Occasionally they spoke, and their manner and words were kindly, but King and Midget could not bring themselves to respond in the same way.

“King,” whispered Marjorie, “how far do you suppose we are from the road?”

“Too far to run there, if that’s what you mean.  We’d be caught before we started,” was the whispered reply.

“That isn’t what I mean; but how far are we?”

“Not very far, Midget; after we crossed the little bridge, the path to this place was sort of parallel to the road.”

“Well, King, I’ve got an idea.  Don’t say anything, and don’t stop me.”