GypsyThe girl raised her head to locate the sound. It could not come from the Devil’s Swing. Everyone had gone home. Besides, no one save Dave would be apt to ride the swing. Impossible, and yet the creaking was just the same as that made by the long, heavy ropes rubbing over the thick alder branch. Clem’s glance slowly penetrated the shadows beneath the big tree a dozen yards away. Something was moving there. Funny! The swing was under way, gaining motion rapidly. Someone was in the seat. Must be that one of the young boys from the summer camp had stayed to await the return of the posse.
The girl relaxed and idly watched the arc of the swing lengthen. Presently, when at its fullest reach, the swing would carry its rider to a point a few feet above the warehouse roof and rush back, far ou
