It was some wild beast, beyond question, but it wasn't a bear. Its eyes, shining with a phosphorescent glow, and the cavernous growling that issued from the red jaws, made it seem the most frightful kind of a monster. Hoping that it was not particularly hungry, Ned tried the scare game again, flinging up his arms and shouting, and making noises horrible enough to frighten any one to whom they remained unexplained. In this case it succeeded admirably. The creature, whatever it was, must have concluded that it was something besides a boy with which it had taken passage, and, after indulging in one prolonged stare, dropped back into the water and paddled straight for shore.
NED TRIED THE SCARE GAME AGAIN, FLINGING UP HIS ARMS AND SHOUTING
"I don't think Lone Wolf can follow me all along this route," concluded the boy, as he resumed his paddling toward shore, and reached it in the course of the next ten minutes. He had been cramped up in one position so long that he felt the need of exercise, and started off at a rapid pace, with no more idea of the precise direction he was following than if he were blind.
The clouds sweeping across the sky grew heavier and darker, and the wind, strong and chilling, soughed through the trees of the forest with a dismal, wailing sound that would have frightened one of more years than young Chadmund. Even he would have shrunk from the task of going through the wood had the circumstances been different, but he was so actuated by the one all-controlling desire of escape that he forgot the real danger which encompassed him. Besides the risk of encountering the Apaches, there was the ever-present peril from wild beasts and venomous serpents. None of the latter as yet had disturbed him, but he was likely to step upon some coiling reptile, unseen in the dark, whose sting was certain death.
It soon became apparent that a storm of a most violent character was about to burst forth. The wind grew stronger and colder, lightning flashed athwart the darkening sky, and the thunder boomed with an increasing power peculiar to warm countries. The wanderer had been fortunate thus far in preserving himself from a ducking, and he was still desirous of doing so. There was nothing to be gained by pressing forward, and he began groping around for some kind of a shelter. This was difficult to find, as the gloom was so dense that eyesight was useless, and he could only use his hands.
"I guess I'll have to climb a tree," he thought, running his hand along the bark of one.