t a quarter of a
mile, retreading the path by which she had come. It was growing darker,
and, being in unfamiliar surroundings, she hurried on, though she knew
well what course to take. Following the bank of the river she would have
increased her walk greatly, as the stream made a curve at a point above
Manitou, and then came back again to its original course; so she cut
across the promontory, taking the most direct line homeward.

Presently, however, she became conscious of other people in the wood
besides herself. She saw no one, but she heard breaking twigs, the stir
of leaves, the flutter of a partridge which told of human presence. The
underbrush was considerable, darkness was coming on, and she had a sense
of being surrounded. It agitated her, but she pulled herself together,
stood still and admonished herself. She called herself a fool; she asked
herself if she was going to be a coward. She laughed out loud at her
own apprehension; but a chill stole into her blood when she heard near
by--there was no doubt about it now--mockery of her own laughter. Then
suddenly, before she could organize her senses, a score of men seemed
to rise up from the ground around her, to burst out from the bushes, to
drop from the trees, and to storm upon her. She had only time to realize
that they were Romanys, before scarfs were thrown around her head, bound
around her body, and, unconscious, she was carried away into the deep
woods.

When she regained consciousness Fleda found herself in a tent, set in a
kind of prairie amphitheatre valanced by shrubs and trees. Bright fires
burned here and there, and dark-featured men squatted upon the ground,
cared for their horses, or busied themselves near two large caravans, at
the doors or on the steps of which now and again appeared a woman.

She had waked without moving, had observed the scene without drawing the
attention of a man--a sentry--who sat beside the tent-door. The tent
was empty save for herself. There was little in it besides the camp-bed
against the tent wall, upon which she lay, and the cushions supporting
her head. She had waked carefully, as it were: as though some inward
monitor had warned her of impending danger. She realized that she had
been kidnapped by Romanys, and that the hand behind the business was
that of Jethro Fawe. The adventurous and reckless Fawe family had
its many adherents in the Romany world, and Jethro was its head, the
hereditary claimant for its leader