Gypsy Breynton Part 18

"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."

They listened. A curious, irregular tramping round broke the stillness.

Gypsy stood up quickly, and put the gun into position upon her shoulder.

"It isn't Tom and Mr. Hallam,--then there would be two. This is only one, and it doesn't sound like a man, I declare."

"Oh, it's a bear, it's a bear! We shall be eaten up alive,--oh, Gypsy, Gypsy!"

"Keep still! I can shoot him if it is; but I know it isn't; just wait and see."

The curious sound came nearer; tramped through the underbrush; crushed the dead twigs. Gypsy's finger was on the trigger; her face a little pale. She thought the idea of the bear all nonsense; she did not know what she feared; the very mystery of the thing had thoroughly frightened her.

"Keep still, Sarah; you hit me. I don't want to fire till I see."

"Oh, it's coming, it's coming!" cried Sarah, starting back with a scream.

She clung, in her terror, to Gypsy's arm; jerked it; the trigger snapped, and a loud explosion echoed and re-echoed and reverberated among the trees.

It was followed by a sound the most horrible Gypsy had heard in all her life.

It was a human cry. _It was Tom's voice._

CHAPTER X

THE END OF THE WEEK

Gypsy threw down the gun, and threw up her hands with a curious quick motion, like one in suffocation, who was trying to find a voice; but she did not utter a sound.

There was an instant's awful stillness. In that instant, it seemed to Gypsy as if she had lived a great many years; in that instant, even Sarah's frightened cries were frozen.

Then the bushes parted, and some one sprang through. Gypsy knew the face all blackened and marred with powder--the face dearer to her than any on earth but her mother's. So she had not killed him--thank G.o.d, thank G.o.d!

"Gypsy, child!" called the dear, familiar voice; "what ails you? You haven't hurt me, but why in the name of all danger on this earth did you touch----"

But Tom stopped short; for Gypsy tottered up to him with such a white, weak look on her face, that he thought the rebound of the gun must have injured her, and caught her in his arms.

"You're not going to faint! Where are you hurt?"

But Gypsy was not hurt, and Gypsy never fainted. She just put her arms about his neck and hid her face close upon his shoulder, and cried as if her heart would break.

It was a long time before she spoke,--only kissing him and clinging to him through her sobs,--then, at last,--

"Oh, Tom, I thought I had killed you--I thought--and I loved you so--oh, Tom!"

Tom choked a little, and sat down on the ground, holding her in his lap.

"Why, my little Gypsy!"

Just then footsteps came crashing through the underbrush, and Mr. Hallam ran hurriedly up.

"Oh, you've found them! Where were they? What has happened to Gypsy?"

"Let me go," sobbed Gypsy; "I can't talk just now. I want to go away and cry."

She broke away from Tom's arms, and into the tent, where she could be alone.

"What has happened?" repeated Mr. Hallam. "We came home in less than an hour, and couldn't find you. We have been to Mr. Fisher's, and hunted everywhere. I was calling for you in the gorge when Tom found you."

Sarah was left to tell their story; which she did with remarkable justness, considering how frightened she was. She shared with Gypsy the blame of having left the tents, and insisted that it was her fault that the gun went off. Before the account was quite finished, Gypsy called Tom from the tent-door, and he went to her.

She was quiet, and very pale,

"Oh, Tom, I am so sorry! I didn't think I should be gone so long."

"It was very dangerous, Gypsy. You might have been lost, or you might have had to spend the night here alone, while we were hunting for you."

"I know it, I know it; and Sarah was so frightened, and I was too, a little, and Sarah thought you were a bear."

"I have told you a great many times that it is _never_ safe for you to touch my gun," said Tom, gravely. He felt that Gypsy's carelessness might have brought about too terrible consequences, both to herself and to him, to be pa.s.sed by lightly; and he had an idea that, as long as her mother was not there to tell her so, he must.

But Gypsy dropped her head, and looked so humble and wretched, that he had not the heart to say any more.

Gypsy was sure all the pleasure of her camping-out was utterly spoiled; but there was a bright sun the next morning, and Tom was so kind and pleasant, and the birds were singing, and the world didn't look at all as if she had nearly killed her brother twelve hours before, so she found she was laughing in spite of herself, and two very happy days pa.s.sed after that. Mr. Hallam made a rule that he or Tom should keep the girls constantly in sight, and that, during the time spent in excursions which they could not join, they should remain in Mr. Fisher's house. He said it was too wild a place for them to be alone in for any length of time, and he was sorry he left them before.

Gypsy did not resent this strict tutelage. She was very humble and obedient and careful as long as they stayed upon the mountain. Those few moments, when she clung sobbing to Tom's neck, were a lesson to her. She will not forget them as long as she lives.

At the end of the fourth day, just at supper time, a dark cloud sailed over the sky, and a faint wind blew from the east.

"I wonder if it's going to rain," said Mr. Hallam. They all looked up.