If it were a bear, and they kept still, he might go away and leave them.

Yet, if it were a bear, Tom must know it in some way.
All these thoughts passed through Gypsy's mind in that one instant, while she sat listening to the panting of the brute without.
Then she rose quickly and went on tiptoe to the tent-door.

Her hand trembled a little as she touched the canvas gently--so gently that it scarcely stirred.

She held her breath, she put her eye to the partition, she looked out and saw---- Mr.Fisher's little black dog! Tom was awakened by a long, merry laugh that rang out like a bell on the still night air, and echoed through the forest.

He thought Gypsy must be having another fit of somnambulism, and Sarah jumped up, with a scream, and asked if it wasn't an Indian.
The night passed without further adventure, and the morning sun woke the girls by peering in at a hole in the tent-roof, and making a little round golden fleck, that danced across their eyelids until they opened.
They were scarcely dressed, when Tom's voice, with a spice of mischief in it, called Gypsy from outside.