Gypsy Breynton Part 17

All these thoughts pa.s.sed 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 part.i.tion, 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 pa.s.sed 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. The girls hurried out, and there he sat with Mr. Hallam, before a crackling fire over which some large fresh trout were frying in Indian meal.

"Oh, why didn't you let us go, too?" said Gypsy.

"We took the time while you were asleep, on purpose," said Tom, in his provoking fashion. "n.o.body can do any fishing while girls are round."

"Tom doesn't deserve any for that speech," said Mr. Hallam, smiling; "and I shall have to tell of him. It happens that I caught the fish while a certain young gentleman was dreaming."

"O--oh, Tom! Well; but, Mr. Hallam, can't we go fishing to-day?"

"To be sure, you can."

"How long do you suppose you'll stand it?--girls always give out in half an hour."

"I'll stand it as long as you will, sir!"

Tom whistled.

The trout were done to that indescribable luscious point of brown crispness, and the breakfast was, if possible, better than the supper.

After breakfast, they started on a fishing excursion down the gorge. It was a perfect day. It seemed to the girls that no winds from the valley were ever so sweet and pure as those winds, and no lowland sunshine so golden. The brook foamed and bubbled down its steep, rocky bed, splashed up jets of rainbow spray into the air, and plunged in miniature cascades over tiny gullies; the wet stones flashed in the light upon the banks, and tall daisies, peering over, painted shifting white outlines of themselves in the swelling current and the shallow pools; here and there, too, where the water was deep, the fish darted to the surface, and darted out of sight.

"Isn't it _beau_--tiful!" cried Sarah.

"Pretty enough," said Gypsy, affecting carelessness, and trying to unwind her line in as _au fait_ and boyish a manner as possible.

"You girls keep this pool. Mr. Hallam and I are going a little ways up stream," said Tom. "Now don't speak a word, and be sure you don't scream if you catch a fish by any chance between you, and frighten them all away."

"As if I didn't know that! Here, Sarah, hold your rod lower," said Gypsy, a.s.suming a professional air. Mr. Hallam and Tom walked away, and the girls fished for just half an hour in silence. That is to say, they sat on the bank, and held a rod. Sarah had had one faint nibble, but that was all that had happened, and the sun began to be very warm.

"I'm going out on those stones," said Gypsy. "I believe I see a fish out there."

So she stepped out carefully on the loose stones, which tilted ominously under her weight.

"Oh, you'll fall!" said Sarah.

"Hush--sh! I see one."

Up went the rod in the air with a jerk, over went the stone, and down went Gypsy. She disappeared from sight a moment in the shallow water; then splashed up with a gasp, and stood, dripping.

"Oh, dear me!" said Sarah.

Tom came up, undecided whether to laugh or scold.

"Well, Gypsy Breynton, you've done it now! Now I suppose you must go directly home, and you'll catch cold before you can get there. This is a pretty fix!"

"N--no," gasped Gypsy, rubbing the water out of her eyes; "I have dry clothes up in the tent. Mother said I should want them. I guess I'll go right up. I'm--rather--wet, I believe."

Tom looked at his watch, as Gypsy toiled dripping up the bank. The temptation was too great to be resisted, and he called out,--

"Precisely half an hour! Gypsy, my dear, I'd stay all long, as the boys do, by all means!" It was a very good thing about Gypsy, that she was quite able to relish a joke at her own expense. She laughed as merrily as Tom did, and the morning's adventure made quite as much fun as they would have gained from a string of perfectly respectable fishes, properly and scientifically caught, with dry feet and a warm seat on the bank under a glaring sun. Mr. Hallam and Tom brought up plenty for dinner; so no one went hungry.

That afternoon, it chanced that the girls were left alone for about one hour. Mr. Hallam had taken Tom some distance up the stream for a comfortable little fish by themselves, and left the girls to prepare supper, with strict injunctions not to go out of sight of the tents.

They were very well content with the arrangement for a while, but at last Gypsy became tired of having nothing but the trees to look at, and suggested a visit to the brook. She had seen some checker-berry leaves growing in the gorge, and was seized with a fancy to have them for supper.

Sarah, as usual, made no objections, and they went.

"It's only just out of sight of the tent," said Gypsy, as they ran down over the loose stones; "and we won't be gone but a minute."

But they were gone many minutes. They had little idea how long the time had been, and were surprised to find it growing rapidly dark in the forest when they came panting back to the tent, out of breath with the haste they had made.

"They must be back by this time," said Gypsy; "Tom!"

There was no answer.

"Tom! Thom-as! Mr. Hallam!"

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."