erto!"

"My goodness! is he a friend of yours, Ruthie?" gasped Tom Cameron.

"He's the Gypsy boy that saved Uncle Jabez," returned Ruth, in a breath.

"Take him aboard--_do_!" urged Helen. "That awful dog----"

Roberto had heard and leaped for the running-board of the car. Tom
switched on the power. Just as the huge hound leaped, and his fore-paws
touched the step, the car darted away and the brute was left sprawling.

The car was a left-hand drive, and Tom motioned the panting youth to get
in beside him. The dark-faced fellow did so. At first he was too
breathless to speak, but his black eyes snapped like beads, and his lips
smiled. He seemed to have enjoyed the race with the savage dog, instead
of having been frightened by it.

"You save me, Missy, like I save your old man--eh?" he panted, at last,
turning his brilliant smile upon Ruth. "Me! that dog mos' have me, eh?"

"What was the matter? How came you to start all that riot?" demanded
Tom, looking at the Gypsy youth askance.

Roberto's grin became expansive. The little gold rings in his ears
twinkled as well as his eyes.

"I did them no wrong. I slept in the man's haymow. He found me a little
while ago. He say I haf to _pay_ for my sleep--eh? How poor Gypsy pay?"
and he opened his hands and shrugged his shoulders to show that his
pockets were empty.

"Me, no money have got. Can I work? Of course I work--only the farmers
do not trust me. They call all Gypsies thieves. Isn't it so, Missy?" and
he flashed a glance at Ruth.

"I know, Mr. Joe Bascom drove you out of his orchard," agreed the girl
of the Red Mill. "But you should have come across the river to _us_.
Uncle Jabez is really grateful to you."

"Oh, _that_?" and the boy shrugged his shoulders again. "I do not want
pay for what I do--no. I want no money. I would not work a day for all
my grandmother's wealth--and she is a miser," and Roberto laughed again,
showing all his white, strong teeth.

"But these people back here--this man and his woman--they want me to
churn. It is a dog's work--no? I see where the dog haf to churn, but
that dog die and they get this new, savage one--and it will not. Me, I
think this dog very wise!" and Roberto's merriment broke out again, and
he shook with it.

"So I tell them I will not do dog's work, and then he, the man, chases
me with his pitchfork, and the woman unloose the dog. Oh, yes! I make a
great noise in the henyard. That dog chase me hard. So--I got away as