Lanky, to use his own expression, “buttoned up his lips” right then and there. He could not tell when some member of the gypsy tribe might be lying behind a bush, and overhear what they were saying; and it was the part of discretion to keep a close watch over everything they did from now on. Suspicious looks greeted their arrival at the camp. Both men and women, even the younger element among the nomads, seemed to question the wisdom of allowing a couple of boys to enter the enclosure where the belongings of the tribe were scattered about. But Frank stepped up to the first man he met, and there was something so manly about his demeanor that unconsciously, before he had spoken a word, the gypsy smiled. “I want to see the queen, Esther you call her, I think,” was what Frank said. “She is not telling fortunes any more,” said the man. “It has brought us more trouble than dollars, and so she has stopped. But they were always true; and sometimes the house-dwellers liked them not on that account.” “But I don’t want to see her for that,” Frank insisted. “What would you, then, boy?” demanded the man, a little suspiciously now. “I have been sent here to see her by the gentleman who owns this land,” Frank continued, boldly. “The old agreement has run out, and it was understood that the next time you came to stay here, your leader would make a new one. I have brought it for the queen to sign, after we have talked the matter over.” At that the gypsy’s eyes showed more wonder than ever. Undoubtedly he marveled to see a mere boy sent on such an important errand. But, at any rate, Frank’s explanation seemed to have cleared away the doubts that were beginning to harass his mind. “If that is so, come with me. I will show you where the queen can be found,” he said, with more respect than he had used before. Frank turned to his companion, and remarked, in a careless way: “Just make yourself at home, Lanky, till I get through. I guess there won’t be any objection to his hanging around the camp a while; will there? He wants to understand how gypsies live when on the road, you see.” “It’s all right; let him stay as long as he wants. You come this way with me,” and as he said this the swarthy-faced, squatty man started off. Frank was about to follow when he heard Lanky draw his breath in a curious way, which had been arranged as a signal between them. And coming when it did, this told Frank that his chum meant to say something in a low tone as they stood for a few seconds, before he himself followed the gypsy. “I saw something,” muttered Lanky, when their heads were close together. “What was it?” asked Frank, quickly. “Over at the big wagon, where you’re going now,” the other went on. “Where the queen lives, you mean?” asked Frank.