llie, that we
brothers and sisters of the road never use titles."

"Oh, yes, I mustn't forget that I'm one of the fraternity," answered
Billie, smiling.

"'--Gypsy blood to the Gypsy blood
Ever the wide world over,'"

called Maggie, with much animation, from the top step of the van.

"You'll have to know her better to understand her dual nature, Billie,"
observed Amy Swinnerton, glancing up from her easel. "After she's been a
good housewife and got things shipshape and free from the dust of the
road she loves so much, she's ready to turn Gypsy and muss them all up
again."

"I never mussed anything up in my life," broke in Maggie. "I only clean
up other people's musses."

"But how is your brother Richard?" persisted Billie. "You see I feel
some natural anxiety because I was the one who shot him last night. Has
the wound been dressed?"

"Shot him?" repeated the other girls.

"That was why he made me drive old Dobbin this morning," said Amy.

"And to think he never told," broke in Maggie, "and he's gone off now,
goodness only knows where."

"And he didn't tell you about the attack and how he saved us?" demanded
Billie.

"Not a word."

Billie gave them an account of what had happened the evening before. It
was exciting enough to tell about and the girls listened breathlessly.
Richard's courage and tact with the outlaws when all the time his sleeve
was soaked with blood from the wound in his arm, fired her with unusual
eloquence.

"I don't think they intended to harm any of us," she finished. "It was
Phoebe they wanted, and her father, who is hiding somewhere on the
mountain. But we shall be thankful to him all our lives for what he did.
Why didn't he tell you?"

"It's too like him," said Maggie. "I don't know whether it's modesty or
indifference, but he never, never tells stories where he figures as a
hero."

"Do you wish us to stop here now after so much excitement?" Amy asked.
"I don't think it's any time for outsiders to intrude in spite of
Maggie's rhymes about Gypsy blood and brothers of the road."

"Indeed, we wouldn't think of letting you go," cried Billie hospitably.
"You are not strangers to us, I assure you, after all your kindness. But
I do wish I could find your brother. The place on his arm bled a lot
last night. I am certain a wound like that should be washed and dressed
every few hours. Do you think he could have gone very far away?"

"Oh, dear," exclaimed Maggie. "Richard is i