Delaware gazette and state journal. (Wilmington, Del.) 1883-1902, 1894-01-18

As II the Old One Is ever ready at call,
at this moment smart open buggy in
which sat two men-one a weakened
old man, with frowsy white head
dropped almost out of sight between
thin. peaked shoulders; the other, a hard
faced, officious fellow of perhaps forty,
the village constable-was driven from
the highway into the edge of the camp.
The younger man bawled out buster
ingly:
esquire Slater here, owns this ranch
arter noon to-day. You fellers kin hev
Jess twenty-four hours to mosey outer
this Dye hear?"
IN Jail ev'ry one if they don't. Tell
EN- that, jeff. Tell 'em, too" shrieked
the old wretch with savage gesture of
his shrivelled hand towards Maple Hill
farmhouse, shat old fool goes, too.
She's run her rope. Can't git another
dollar, can she, jeff"
"Not darned red cent. You fellers
better hustle nowI' And with this the
precious pair drove rapidly away towards
Midtown, the county seat, IL miles dis
tant.
There were quick movements about
the camp, but not of preparation for
hasty flight. Low and rapid consulta.
tons by leaders were held. In one
group the clinking of gold could be
softly heard. The name of certain
Midtown lawyer was more than once
spoken under their breaths. Three of
the best horses were saddled and shortly
three huge gypsies, Chief Stanley, Elias
wharton, whose wife seemed to be earn
estly urging him or, and kindly Zeb Bos-
well, were upon their backs, Swimming
like swallows along the pleasant high
way in the direction the squire and
constable had taken. They soon over
took the conveyance, and as they passed
IL, Chief Stanley said almost APOLOGIZE
cally TO the squire and his companion !:
Illus be jess ridin' up to Midtown,
fur summat as we needs afore breakin'
camp"
"All right, Gip;" returned jeff surlily.
"Mosey long. Quicker ye git back
an git out, the bettern and with re-
spectful "Thankee, sirs," from all, the
three increased their speed and had soon
placed miles between themselves and
the Maple Valley representatives of the
law.
The sun had scarcely turned the
shadows of the great maple trees from
west to east across the perturbed camp,
when two well favored men of perhaps
30 years of age strolled into the little
grove, from the old highway which
leads from the city of Boston, to the
grand New England hills. The face Of
one who carried portfolio was full Of
eager interest as he surveyed the pic
turesque scene. His companion was a
young New York author. His writings
upon the Romany race were already
making him famous. He had brought
his artist friend, Joe Beale, from Phila-
delphia TO this out-of-the way New
England nook to assist him in securing
additional illustrations for his new
volume, "With An Ancient Race" For
a famous and prosperous man there was
a strange sadness in his face and huski-
ness in his voice as he conversed with
his artist friend, now and then peering
through the naples towards the gray
old farmhouse on the hill, or, closer
still, over upon the huddled graves
beyond the hazel copse.
They came along together, the artist
already impatiently fumbling at his
sketch book, and the author patting this
dog, that chauvie, or another racl5lie
upon the head or nodding Familiarity to
one or another of the lads or men, until
close beside chief SANKEY'S tent, when
he said pleasantly in their own language
to the group still lingering there:
SIS your rom (chief) about the camp?
am known to many of your people as
the gorgiochal 1.-THE non-gypsy gypsies'
friend). have brought a friend with
me, and we would like to remain here
little"
In the words of gypsy welcome that
instantly came and the scurrying of
gypsy feet to do him Ihonor, a sudden
commotion was heard within the tent.
1t was Jane Tooker, who first screeched
out: -s.A#
Lord, know'd sunthn' d happen p
I'll be gol DANCED to all 'tarnity p
piped Josh.
Its him Mary Its him-Dick I'd
know my boys voice in heay'n p
shrieked Grandma Hull, staggering
from the tent and desperately clutching
the stranger.
Brother brother p gasped Mary |
Hull, springing after her mother into |
the arms of Richard Hull, who stood
there deathly pale and speechless as |
these, to him, apparitions from the very |
grave chung ecstatically about him.
"Hold the gang right there |" shouted |
Joe Beale, working furiously upon his
sketch book, not comprehending the |
of the scene, but filled with |
an artists enthusiasm. "Just a minute
more Great Scott Dick Hull, if l can
catch thot grouping, it III be worth a
thousand dollarsn
LEFT i'm in fitl-left i'm in fit p
yelled Zeb Boswell, wildly waving a
paper above his shaggy head, as he and
his companions dashed into camp and
capped from their painting horses with
whoops of hilarious triumph. "'Ere.
,re, Grandma I'M 'Ere's the morgipe
clean o. 81 Slater as your poor o. Fart
rom meanness. Maple 'Ill's yourn
lgin, an hus gypsies doan't mosey J."
The sentence was not completed, for
handsome Helen Wharton, grabbing
mixer Zeb, and her grinning husband,
While laughing, crying and gasping out,
The soldier that saved hus /" jerked
Ter raven head violently in explanation
md dragged the two men to Dick and
hose who bound him in loves embrace,
where the trio beset him with lncoher-
mt thanks and blessings; Zeb somehow
,etting outside the whirlwind of emo
ion long enough to below, "Everlastin'
hammers an tongs but ERE is go =
For It's "Cheel Cheel" when the boobies
comet"
yhereupon the wildly jubilant camp,
living full sway to the delirious in
luence of ballad and victory, sang as
nortals never sang before.
And when the stars shone out that
light upon Maple Valley, their gentle
avs fell upon happy farmhouse