she set
off through the cornfields in the direction of the gypsies' encampment.

CHAPTER XLV.

TIGER.

It was still very, very early in the morning, and the gypsy folk, tired
from their march on the preceding day, slept. There stood the conical,
queer-shaped tents, four in number; at a little distance off grazed the
donkeys and a couple of rough mules; at the door of the tents lay
stretched out in profound repose two or three dogs.

Annie dreaded the barking of the dogs, although she guessed that if they
set up a noise, and a gypsy wife or man put out their heads in
consequence, they would only desire the gypsy child to lie down and keep
quiet.

She stood still for a moment--she was very anxious to prowl around the
place and examine the ground while the gypsies still slept, but the
watchful dogs deterred her. She stood perfectly quiet behind the
hedgerow, thinking hard. Should she trust to a charm she knew she
possessed, and venture into the encampment? Annie had almost as great a
fascination over dogs and cats as she had over children. As a little
child going to visit with her mother at strange houses, the watch-dogs
never barked at her; on the contrary, they yielded to the charm which
seemed to come from her little fingers as she patted their great heads.
Slowly their tails would move backward and forward as she patted them,
and even the most ferocious would look at her with affection.

Annie wondered if the gypsy dogs would now allow her to approach without
barking. She felt that the chances were in her favor; she was dressed in
gypsy garments, there would be nothing strange in her appearance, and if
she could get near one of the dogs she knew that she could exercise the
magic of her touch.

Her object, then, was to approach one of the tents very, very quietly--so
softly that even the dog's ears should not detect the light footfall. If
she could approach close enough to put her hand on the dog's neck all
would be well. She pulled off the gypsy maid's rough shoes, hid them in
the grass where she could find them again, and came gingerly step by
step, nearer and nearer the principal tent. At its entrance lay a
ferocious-looking half-bred bull-dog. Annie possessed that necessary
accompaniment to courage--great outward calm; the greater the danger, the
more cool and self-possessed did she become. She was within a step or two
of the tent when she trod accidentally on a small twig; it cracked,
giving her f