"Well, you thhould be."

"By the way, ladies, there is another little matter that you'll have to fix up before we go any further."

The guardian and the girls glanced inquiringly at their mercenary visitor.

"What do you mean?"

"Them melons," answered the farmer, indicating the fruit with a nod.

"I don't understand you, sir." The guardian was plainly perplexed.

Harriet was smiling broadly. She thought she understood now.

"The melons you stole from my field."

"Stole from your field?" gasped Miss Elting.

"Yes."

"Sir, you insult us! We have stolen neither melons nor anything else. I demand that you leave this camp instantly. We shall not endure such accusations."

"You didn't steal them, eh?"

"No, we didn't," answered Jane, who had stepped forward.

"Then where did you get them?"

The girls looked at one another. No one spoke. None wished to place the blame on the Tramp Club. The girls now began to understand the hurried departure of Captain Baker and his friends. Miss Elting saw that there was only one course to pursue under the circ.u.mstances.

"I can't tell you where we got the melons, sir, but we didn't steal them. How much are the melons worth?"

"Why?" queried the farmer, scenting a bargain.

"We intend to pay for them," answered Harriet coldly.

"How many melons were there?" asked the farmer, more blandly.

"Two dozen," Harriet replied.

"That'll be about four-eighty," nodded the farmer.

"But that's--"

"It's cheaper than the risk of going to jail," broke in the farmer meaningly.

CHAPTER XVII-TRYING OUT THE GIPSY TRAIL

The farmer pocketed the money that Miss Elting handed him.

"I've my own opinion of you!" flared Crazy Jane.

"Maybe you have," chuckled the farmer, "but--"

"You're quite right," Jane McCarthy taunted. "You wouldn't feel highly complimented if I were to express that opinion!"

"If it's that kind of an opinion--" muttered the farmer, turning red under the coat of tan on his face.

"It's _worse_!" retorted Crazy Jane incisively.

Muttering under his breath, but failing to speak clearly, the abashed farmer turned on his heel, striding away.

The humor of the situation now appealing to them, the girls and their guardian began to laugh heartily.

"Harriet, I believe you suspected this all the time," declared Miss Elting finally.

"Those boys looked mischievous. I didn't know what it was all about, but after a while, I confess, I did suspect them. Never mind, I'll be even with them."

"No, you leave it to me," interjected Jane.

"I am glad that none of you girls betrayed the boys," declared Miss Elting approvingly. "I would suggest that you say nothing to them when we next see them. Let them introduce the subject if it is introduced at all. They may betray themselves. Tommy, don't you lisp a word of it."

"I don't lithp," retorted the little girl indignantly. "I thpeak jutht like other folkth."

"I did not mean it that way, dear," laughed the guardian. "I meant that you shouldn't mention our experience to any one. Now that we have bought and paid for the melons I think we had better stow them in the car.

Come, let us get ready for bed."

"Are we to make an early start in the morning?" asked Hazel.

"Yes. We must not delay if we expect to remain in the contest."

The girls had no intention of giving up the contest. They thought it possible that they might have the company of the Tramp Club on the morrow, as a good part of the Meadow-Brook course lay over a highway, this being the most direct route for the day's tramping.

Rather to their surprise they discovered no trace of the Tramp Club next day. The smoke from the latter's campfire was no longer visible when the girls left their own camp in the morning, nor was there any indication on the road that the boys had pa.s.sed over it. What the girls did not know was that the boys had slipped off into a ravine when the word had been brought to them that the irate farmer was out looking for the people who had visited his melon patch. From there they had moved inland and made a new camp. In the morning they took a roundabout course, avoiding the highway. It were better to be beaten by the girls that day than to be caught by the angry farmer. It was because of this longer route that the Meadow-Brook Girls were again able to get ahead of their rivals.

The tracks of Jane's car had long since been obliterated when the party neared the end of the day's journey. This did not trouble them, for a certain definite stopping place had been agreed upon, and as was customary, when following the highway, the girls now and then dropped a handful of gra.s.s in the road. Especially was this done when they came to forks in the road, so that in case Jane McCarthy returned that way to look for them she might see which direction they had taken. In doing this, though the girls were unaware of the fact, they were following a gipsy practice as old as gipsies themselves. It was the gipsies' way of marking their trail for the benefit of others of their kind who had straggled behind.

"I think this is the place," decided Miss Elting, halting, pointing down a narrow lane that extended through a field of stunted bushes and brush.

The gate that had once shut off this byway from the main road lay broken at one side of it and a ridge of gra.s.s had grown knee high in the middle of the lane. It was a lane that had once led down to a cider mill that now lay a heap of ruins.

"It ith thpooky-looking," observed Tommy.

"Jane is here," exclaimed Harriet. "I see her car tracks, but I don't see her car."

"No; the car has come out onto the highway and gone on," Miss Elting declared. "Jane must have driven to the next town to get something. We will go down that lane."

Harriet dropped some gra.s.s in the road, marking a trail into the byway to notify Jane that they had arrived. They then made their way down the lane. The girls were tired and footsore. Walking in the road had been more wearisome than tramping over the hills and fields, perhaps because the former was less interesting and more monotonous. It was therefore a welcome sight when they espied the tent that they called home, even though it was a now weather-beaten and dingy-looking piece of canvas.