Here, or hereabout, I should say! exclaimed Neale ONeil. Why, it must have been pretty dark when he got this far.
If he really came this far, added Agnes.
Well, let us run along and see if there is a house anywhere, Mr. Pinkney said. Of course, Sammy might have slept out
It wouldnt be the first time, I bet! chuckled Neale.
And of course there would be nothing to hurt him in these woods? suggested Agnes.
Nothing bigger than a rabbit, I guess, agreed their neighbor.
Well
Neale increased the speed of the car again, turned a blind corner, and struck a soft place in the road before he could stop. Having no skidding chains on the rear wheels of course, the car was out of control in an instant. It slued around. Agnes screamed. Mr. Pinkney shouted his alarm.
The car slid over the bank of the ditch beside the road and both right wheels sank in mud and water to the hubs.
Some pretty mess Ill tell the world! groaned Neale ONeil, shutting off the engine, while Agnes clung to his arm grimly to keep from sliding out into the ditch, too.
Now, you have done it! shrilled the girl.
Thanks. Many thanks. I expected you to say that, Aggie, he replied.
M-mm! Well, I dont suppose you meant to
No use worrying about how it was done or who did it, interposed Mr. Pinkney, briskly getting out of the tonneau on the left side. The question is, how are we going to right the car and get under way again?
A truer word was never spoken, agreed Neale ONeil. Come on, Agnes. Well creep out on this side, too. Thats it. Looks to me, Mr. Pinkney, as though we should need a couple of good, strong levers to pry up the wheels. You and I can do that while Agnes
truth, the family were berry pickers and had been gone all day (after Sammys adventure with the cherry-colored calf) up in the hills after berries. They had not yet returned for the evening meal, and although Neale stopped the car in front of the shack Mr. Pinkney decided Sammy would not have remained at the abandoned place.
And, of course, Sammy had not remained here. After his exciting fight with Peter and Liz, and fearing to return to the house to complain, he had gone right on. Where he had gone was another matter. The automobile party drove to the town of Crimbleton, which was the next hamlet, and there Mr. Pinkney made exhaustive inquiries regarding his lost boy, but to no good result.
Well try again to-morrow, Mr. Pinkney, if you say so, urged Neale.
Of course we will, agreed Agnes. Well go every day until you find him.
Their neighbor shook his head with some sadness. I am afraid it will do no good. Sammy has given us the slip this time. Perhaps I would better put the matter in the hands of a detective agency. For myself, I should be contented to wait until he shows up of his own volition. But his mother
Agnes and Neale saw, however, that the man was himself very desirous of getting hold of his boy again. They made a hasty supper at the Crimbleton Inn and then started homeward at a good rate of speed.
When they came up the grade toward the old house beside the road, at the edge of the wood, the big woman and her family had returned, made their own supper, and gone to bed. The place looked just as deserted as before.
The dead-end of nowhere, Neale called it, and the automobile gathered speed as it went by. So the searchers missed making inquiry at the very spot where inquiry might have done the most good. The trail of Sammy Pinkney was lost.
Neale ONeil wanted to satisfy himself about one thing. He said nothing to Agnes about it, but after he had put up the car and locked the garage, he walked down Main Street to Byburgs candy store.
June Wildwood was always there until half past nine, and Saturday nights until later. She was at her post behind the sweets counter on this occasion when Neale entered.
I am glad to see you, Neale, she said. Im awfully curious.
About that bracelet?
Yes, she admitted. What has come of it? Anything?
Enough. Tell me, began Neale, before she could put in any further question, while you were with the Gypsies did you hear anything about Queen Alma?
Queen Zaliska. I was Queen Zaliska. They dressed me up and stained my face to look the part.
Oh, I know all about that, Neale returned. But this Queen Alma was some ancient lady. She lived three hundred years ago.
Goodness! How you talk, Neale ONeil. Of course I dont know anything about such a person.
Those Gypsies you were with never talked of her?
I didnt hear them. I never learned much of the language they use among themselves.
Well, we got a tip, said the boy, that the bracelet belonged to this Queen Alma, and that there is a row among the Gypsies over the ownership of it.
You dont tell me!
I am telling you. We heard so. Say, is that Big Jim a Spaniard? A Spanish Gypsy, I mean?
I dont know. Maybe. He looks like a Spaniard, or a Mexican, or an Italian.
Yes. I thought he did. He comes of some Latin race, anyway. What is his last name?
Why I I am not sure that I know.
Is it Costello? Did you hear that name while you were with the Gypsies, June?