A bird chirped in a maple-bough overhead, and a spark cracked out of the smouldering hickory fire; there was no other sound. "I guess they're busy in their tent," said Gypsy, going up to it. But the tent was empty. "They haven't come!" exclaimed Sarah. "It's real mean in them to leave us here," said Gypsy, looking round among the trees. "You know," suggested Sarah, timidly, "you know Mr. Hallam said we were to stay at the tents. Perhaps they came while we were gone, and couldn't find us, and have gone to hunt us up." "Oh!" said Gypsy, quickly, "I forgot." She turned away her face a moment, so that Sarah could not see it; then she turned back, and said, slowly,-- "Sarah, I'm very sorry I took you off. This is rather a bad fix. We must make the best of it now." "Let's call again," said Sarah, faintly. They called again, and many times; but there was no reply. Everything was still but the bird, and the sparks that crackled now and then from the fire. The heavy gray shadows grew purple and grew black. The little foot-paths in the woods were blotted out of sight, and the far sky above the tree-tops grew dusky and dim. "We might go to Mr. Fisher's,--do, Gypsy! I can't bear to 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."