It took many hours to get back to the woods, and they were both tired and hungry by the time they saw the long line of dark trees stretching away before them. Maggie had brought some food with her, which she shared with her friend; but they did not dare to eat much, as they had to make it last as long as possible. They tried not to think of their bad prospects as they trudged along. They did not enter the woods till dusk, for they knew that if the rich gipsy saw Maggie, he would guess what had brought her back, and hide Alfonso more carefully than ever. They found the spot where their camp had been, and rested there a little before going into the heart of the wood. Maggie knew every step of the way, every clump of yellowing ferns, every trail of bramble, and the Cochin-Chinaman, who was not observant, was glad to follow her blindly. When once they caught sight of the tents, he was to run on and prowl about in the undergrowth, calling to Alfonso in his own language. As nobody but the gamecock would understand what he said, he was to shout, telling him Maggie was there, and the two birds were to settle a way of escape. These were fine schemes, and would, no doubt, have succeeded beautifully; but alas! and alas! when they came to the root beside which Rhoda had sung her songs to Dan, they saw that the place was empty and the tents gone. The only traces remaining of the camp were the little black circles of ashes on the ground, which showed where the fires had been. It was chilly comfort to think that, if Alfonso had been stolen only a day ago, the gipsy could not have gone far. He had horses and carts, and there was not much chance of overtaking him for the two poor footsore friends, even if they knew which way he went. It was too dark now to see the traces of his wheels on the soft moss, and they could go no farther that night. Nevertheless, Maggie would not give up her quest, and the Cochin-Chinaman, great yellow booby of a fellow as he was, vowed that he would never leave her. He blubbered as he said it, but he meant it, all the same. When morning broke their hearts were very sad. Where were they to go? Winter was coming on, and they had no money and hardly any food, and unless they begged as they went, there was nothing they could do for a living. But they made up their minds either to die or to rescue their friend, and started at daybreak to follow the track of footprints and wheel-marks which took them to the dusty highroad. The cock picked up all sorts of odds and ends by the way, and a friendly blacksmith who was eating bread and cheese at the door of his smithy gave Maggie a share of it. They slept in an empty barn that night, and the next day found them on the outskirts of a little country town.