babies," he thought to himself; "I don't believe they ever steal such big
kids as Marjorie and me."

King was fifteen, and tall for his age, and as he looked at Marjorie he
realized that she was a big girl, too, and he felt sure they were beyond
the age of being kidnapped. But as he noted the furtive glances which
were cast at them by the gypsies, he again felt alarmed, and glanced at
Marjorie to see if her thoughts were like his own.

But they were not. Marjorie was chatting gaily with the good-looking
young woman who had brought her into the tent, and she was accepting
an invitation to have a glass of milk and a cracker.

As an old gypsy woman poured the milk from the pitcher into the glass,
she turned her back to Marjorie, but King's alert eyes could see her
shaking a small portion of white powder into the milk.

Like a flash it came to King what it all meant! They were kidnappers,
these wicked gypsies, and they meant to put some drug in the milk that
the children drank, so they would go to sleep, and then the kidnappers
would carry them away!

King thought rapidly. He couldn't let Marjorie drink that milk,--and yet
if he made a fuss about it, they could easily overpower him. He
determined to use strategy.

"Let me pass the glass to my sister," he said, jumping up, and going to
take the glass from the old woman who had poured it. Unsuspectingly,
she let him take it, but as he turned, he stumbled, purposely, against
the table leg, and spilled all the milk on the ground.