The boys at once thought of the long-ago mystery of the disappearance of the Bartles. They felt quite uncomfortable.

“Well, we’re going now, so don’t worry,” said Julian. ‘We’re only camping for a night or two, as I said. We won’t come near here again, if you object to us.

He saw Sniffer creeping up behind the men, with Liz, who for some reason of her own, was walking sedately on her hind-legs. Sniffer pulled at his father’s arm.

“They’re all right,” he said. “You know our Clip got his leg made better at the stables. They’re all right!”

All he got was a savage cuff that sent him to the ground, where he rolled over and over. Liz dropped down on all fours and went to lick him.

“Here, I say!” said Julian, shocked. “Leave that kid alone! You’ve no right to hit him like that!”

Sniffer set up such a yelling that some of the women left the caravans not far off and came running to see what was up. One of them began to shout at Sniffer’s father and he shouted back. Soon there was quite a row going on between the men and the angry women, one of whom had picked up poor Sniffer and was dabbing his head with a wet cloth.

“Come on, it’s a good time to go,” said Julian to Dick. “What an unfriendly lot they are, except poor Sniffer, and he was doing his best for us, poor kid.”

The two boys went off quickly, glad to be away from the men and their dogs. They were puzzled about everything. The men said they knew nothing about the lamp, but they must know something about it. Nobody but a gypsy could have lighted it last night.

They went back to the girls and told them what had happened. “Let’s get back to the stables,” said Anne.

“There’s something queer going on. We’ll be in the middle of an adventure before we know where we are!”

“We’ll stay one more night,” said Julian. “I want to see if that plane comes again. Those gypsies don’t know where we’re camping and though Sniffer knows, I’m pretty sure he won’t tell. It was plucky of him to try and stick up for us to his father.”

“All right. We’ll stay,” said George. “I’m not particularly anxious for Timmy to have that long walk home today. I think I’ve got most of that thorn out of his pad, but he still won’t put his foot to the ground.”

“He’s jolly clever at running about on three legs,” said Dick, watching Timmy tearing round the quarry, sniffing as usual for rabbits.

“The amount of quarrying that Timmy has done in this pit already is colossal!” said Julian, staring round at the places where Timmy had tried to get in at some rabbit-hole and scrabbled out big heaps of sand. “He would have been a great help to the Bartles when they dug out sand! Poor old Tim - your bad foot has stopped you scraping for rabbits, hasn’t it!”