Hodge frowned.
“It makes little difference,” he said. “One is likely to be as dangerous as the other.”
“We will camp here ourselves,” decided Merry.
The animals were relieved of their packs, and they busied themselves in erecting a tent and making ready for the night. Little Abe was set to gathering wood with which to build a fire. Darkness came on ere they had completed their tasks, but they finished by the light of the fire, which crackled and gleamed beside the flowing stream.
Wiley had shown himself to be something of a cook, and on him fell the task of preparing supper. He soon had the coffeepot steaming on a bed of coals, and the aroma made them all ravenous. He made up a batter of corn meal and cooked it in a pan over the fire. This, together with the coffee and their dried beef, satisfied their hunger, and all partook heartily.
“Now,” said Wiley, as he stretched himself on the ground, “if some one had a perfecto which he could lend me, I would be supinely content. As it is, I shall have to be satisfied with a soothing pipe.”
He filled his pipe, lighted it, and lay puffing contentedly. Bart and Merry were talking of what the morrow might bring forth, when suddenly Worthington uttered a sharp hiss and held up his hand. Then, to the surprise of all, from some unknown point, seemingly above them, a voice burst forth in song. It was the voice of a man, and the narrow gorge echoed with the weird melody. Not one of them could tell whence the singing came.
“Where dead men roam the dark
The world is cold and chill;
You hear their voices—hark!