stay here," said
Sarah, looking around.

"No," said Gypsy, decidedly. "We can't go to Mr. Fisher's, because that
would mislead them all the more. We must stay here now till they come."

"I'm afraid!" said Sarah, clinging to her arm; "it is so dark. Perhaps
we'll have to stay here alone all night,--oh, Gypsy!"

"Nonsense!" said Gypsy, looking as bold as possible; "it wouldn't be so
dreadful if we did. Besides, of course, we sha'n't; they'll be back here
before long. You go in the tent, if you feel any safer there, and I'll
make up a bright fire. If they see it, they'll know we've come."

Sarah went into the tent, and covered her head up in the bed-clothes; but
in about ten minutes she came back, feeling a little ashamed of her
timidity, and sat down by Gypsy before the fire. It was a strange
picture--the ghostly white tents and tangled brushwood gilded with the
light; the great forest stretching away darkly beyond; the fitful shadows
and glares from the flickering fire that chased each other in strange,
uncouth shapes, among the leaves, and the two children sitting there alone
with frightened, watching eyes.

"I'm not a bit afraid," said Gypsy, after a silence, in a tone as if she
were rather arguing with herself than with Sarah. "I think it's rather
nice. Tom left his gun all loaded, and we can defend ourselves against
anything. I'm going to get it, and we'll play we're Union refugees hiding
in the South."

So she went into Tom's tent, and brought out his gun.

"Look out!" said Sarah, shrinking, "it may go off."

"Go off? Of course it can't, unless I pull the trigger. I know how to
manage a gun,--hark! what's that?"

"Oh dear, oh dear!" said Sarah, beginning to cry. "I know it's a bear."

"Hush! Let's listen."

They listened. A curious, irregular tramping round broke the stillness.

Gypsy stood up quickly, and put the gun into position upon her shoulder.

"It isn't Tom and Mr. Hallam,--then there would be two. This is only one,
and it doesn't sound like a man, I declare."

"Oh, it's a bear, it's a bear! We shall be eaten up alive,--oh, Gypsy,
Gypsy!"

"Keep still! I can shoot him if it is; but I know it isn't; just wait and
see."

The curious sound came nearer; tramped through the underbrush; crushed the
dead twigs. Gypsy's finger was on the trigger; her face a little pale. She
thought the idea of the bear all nonsense; she did not know what she
feared; the very mystery of the thing had thoroughly fri