As she waited, trembling, and nothing more occurred, her courage slowly returned and her active brain commenced to plan. The danger, at least, was no longer imminent. Should she arouse the men? And how? The thing was still out there somewheres, she reflected; if she attempted to leave her tent she would call its attention to herself; if she cried for help, she would not only frighten the rest of the girls out of their wits, but would bring forth the men--perhaps unprepared--face to face with the unknown danger. She had read somewhere that bears, when cornered, were extremely ferocious. Perhaps she had better remain quiet; there was always the possibility that it would go away. Then the thought occurred to her that she might safely raise the lower edge of the tent without being heard, and make observations. Rolling over, with her head to the ground, slowly she stretched forth a cold, shaking hand to the cover, fumbled with her fingers beneath the edge, and raised it sufficiently to look out. But she kept her eyes tightly closed for fear of what she was about to see. When she opened them she thought she must have been dreaming. After the darkness of the tent, the world without appeared remarkably bright in the soft light of the moon. Glancing quickly about, Marjorie beheld, to her utter amazement--not a bear, but a horse! It stood clearly outlined against the wall of Mr. Hilton’s tent, about fifteen yards away and was apparently dozing; for it was motionless, with drooping head. Marjorie felt so provoked that she risked waking the other girls by putting her head outside her tent to utter a sharp hiss. The horse raised its head with a jerk, and with a loud snort trotted back to its companions. Marjorie threw herself back upon her bed, and pulled the blankets over her. She was undecided whether to laugh or to cry. But she did neither. Now that she was relaxed she felt limp and worn out. She again told herself that she was worse than Doris; but she was glad that she had not aroused the men and alarmed the girls unnecessarily; that she had had sufficient courage to sit there quietly in spite of her fears. She resolved to say nothing about it, not because of the joking which would be sure to ensue at her expense, but for the sakes of the more timid of the girls; and she determined to go through with the rest of the journey even though she were the only girl to remain in the party. “I decided last night to go back,” announced Doris at breakfast. “At least if anybody will take me.” “Of course somebody will,” said Marjorie sympathetically. “And I shouldn’t be surprised if some of the other girls wouldn’t like to go, too.” “Yes, I’d be glad to,” said Mae. “And I, too,” put in Lily. “But you’ll miss today’s trip to that wonderful place!” cried Alice, in amazement. “How could you?” “The ranch is good enough for me,” said Doris.