CHAPTER XVIII.
THE STRANGE SIGHT.
From somewhere in the gloomy solitude came a low quavering monotone that had a most uncanny sound in the weird midnight. The youths never before had heard anything of the kind, and the bravest men would have been impressed by it.
Larry, in his fright, sprang to his feet, and would have fled deeper into the woods, but his companion caught his arm and whispered:
"Wait; let's find out what it is."
"Havn't I told ye!" demanded the other with husky impatience; "it's a ghost—it's a hobgoblin."
"But hold on, I say; keep still."
They made sure that they were well protected by shadow, while they waited for a solution of the extraordinary occurrence.
The monotone chant resembled the lower notes of an organ played softly, and with a rise and fall of no more than two or three notes. It was a wild song, which came from some point not far away, though neither could say precisely where. At times it seemed to be overhead, and Wharton caught himself looking into the sky and among the tree-tops for a solution of the mystery. It had a way of ceasing at the end of a minute or two for several seconds, and then was resumed with the same unvarying monotone.
"It's coming this way!" whispered Larry, gripping the shoulder of his companion and attempting to rise again; but Wharton forced him back, though he felt very much like plunging in among the trees himself.