You go to sleep."

Sarah was so much accustomed to doing as Gypsy told her, that she turned
over and went to sleep without another word. It was not a good thing for
Gypsy to be so much with just such a girl as Sarah. She was physically the
weaker of the two, as well as the more timid, and she had fallen into a
habit of obeying, and Gypsy of commanding, by a sort of mutual tacit
agreement. It was partly for this reason, as was natural enough, that
Gypsy chose her so often for a companion, but principally because Sarah
never refused any romp or adventure; other timid girls liked to have their
own way and choose their own quiet plays. Sarah's timidity yielded to
Gypsy's stronger will. If Gypsy took a fancy to climb a ruined windmill,
Sarah would scream all the way, but follow. If Gypsy wanted to run at full
speed down a dangerous steep hill, where there were walls to be leaped,
and loose, rolling stones to be dodged, Sarah scolded a little, but went.

A girl more selfish than Gypsy would have been ruined by this sort of
companionship. Her frank, impulsive generosity saved her from becoming
tyrannical or dictatorial. The worst of it was, that she was forced to
form such a habit of always taking the lead.

She lay awake some time that night after Sarah had fallen asleep,
listening to the strange whispers of the wind in the trees, and making
plans for to-morrow, until at last her happy thoughts faded into happy
dreams.

She did not know how long she had been asleep, when something suddenly
woke her. She was a little startled at first by the unfamiliar sight of
the tent-roof, and narrow, walled space which shut her in. The wind was
sighing drearily through the forest, the distant scream of an owl had an
ugly sound; and--why no--but yes!--another sound, more ugly than the cry
of a night-bird, was distinct at the door of the tent--the sound of a
quick, panting breath!

Gypsy sat upright in bed, and listened.

It grew louder, and came nearer; quick, and hoarse, and horrible--like the
breathing of a hungry animal.

Sarah slept like a baby; there was not a movement from Tom and Mr. Hallam
in the other tent; everything was still but that terrible sound. Gypsy had
good nerves and was not easily frightened, but it must be confessed she
thought of those traditionary bears which had been seen at Ripton. She had
but a moment in which to decide what to do, for the creature was now
sniffing at the tent-door, and once she was sure sh