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 she saw a dark paw lift the sail-cloth.

She might wake Sarah, but what was the use?
She would only scream, and that would do no good, and might do much harm.