d, and passed her into the arms of
the woman who had guided Ruth and Helen to the van. She smiled upon the
girls just as pleasantly as before, but now they knew that she was false
and cruel.

Then the queen waved her hand and the door was closed. "You remain with
me to-night, little ladies. Oh! Zelaya would let nothing trouble
you--no, no!"

Helen burst into wild sobs at this, and threw herself upon the floor of
the van. Ruth faced the old woman with wrathful sparks in her brown
eyes.

"You are acting very foolishly, indeed, whoever you are. You Gypsies
cannot carry things with such a high hand in this State of New York.
You'll find out----"

"I am Zelaya, the Queen," interrupted the old hag, hoarsely. "Have a
care! I will put a spell upon you, little lady----"

"Pooh! you can't frighten me that way," declared Ruth Fielding. "I am
not afraid of your spells, or your fortune telling, or any of your
foolish magic. If you believe in any of it yourself, you have not gained
much wisdom all the years you have lived."

"You do not fear the arts of my people?" repeated Zelaya, trying to hold
Ruth with her eye as she had Helen.

"No, I do not. I fear your wickedness. And I know you must be very
dishonest and cruel. But you have no more supernatural power than I have
myself!"

Zelaya's wrinkled face suddenly reddened with passion. She raised her
claw-like hand and struck the bold girl sharply upon the cheek.

"Impudence!" she muttered.

"And _that_ is nothing supernatural," said Ruth, with continued
boldness, although the blow had hurt her--leaving its mark. "You are
breaking the laws of the land, which are far more powerful than any
Gypsy law----"

"Wait!" commanded the woman, threateningly. "You will learn yet, bold
girl, how strong our laws are."

She went back to her stool, mumbling to herself. Ruth lifted Helen into
one of the berths, and sat down beside her. By and by the door of the
van opened again and a bold-looking young woman--not the one that had
brought them to the van--came in with three wooden bowls of a savory
stew. She offered the tray to the visitors at a motion from old Zelaya,
so that they had their choice before the queen received her own supper.

"Let's eat it," whispered Ruth to Helen, when she saw that Zelaya
plunged her own tin spoon into the stew. "It surely isn't drugged, or
_she_ wouldn't touch it."

They ate greedily, for both were hungry. It takes more than fear to
spoil the health