Then suddenly the silence was broken by a hideous clamour of wolfish howls. Distant though they were, the cries almost froze the blood in Wilson’s veins, so full were they of deadly menace.
Louder they grew, and it soon became evident to the engineer that the creatures who uttered them were advancing towards the Seal.
He was hesitating whether to cast off the mooring-rope or not when, out of the jungle, some three hundred yards from the vessel, burst a number of figures.
Straight for the vessel they made, one in advance seeming to be pursued by the others.
In a flash comprehension came to Wilson. Snatching up the magazine rifle he had but just laid down, he bounded through the doorway, crossed the deck at a leap, and sprang ashore.
As he did so the runner in advance raised his head, and a cry trembled from his lips.
“For God’s sake, fire, Wilson!”
“Garth!” the engineer cried, then raised his weapon.