Now he was indeed surprised. He had, with his own eyes, seen the hunchback disappear through the vines. He had heard him chuckle mockingly, and he remarked the sound was most hideous and unearthly. Whoever he was, he was most sly and foxy, and had left no trail. He was, ere this, entirely beyond his reach.
For a moment, a feeling of evil came over him. Here he was in Dead-Man’s Forest, in its gloomy depths. He had seen, he knew not what; he had heard it mock him derisively; he was opposed by a strange, invisible foe; and he was somewhat alarmed, and greatly astonished, at its mysterious disappearance. But, he was not one to stand and wonder at marvelous things; he was a young man of great energy, and almost distracted with grief, was impatient at delay and in a hot fever to go on. He raised his voice and called to Cato; he would surely find a trail.
“Cato! oh, Cato!”
No answer. He could hear at a little distance the rustle of bushes and the breaking of twigs; like himself, his comrades were ferreting about in pursuit of the strange intruder. Now and then, one would exclaim suddenly, then relax into silence; then a low whisper would reach his ears from an ardent pair close by.
“Cato! where are you?”
An owl close by, awakened from his midday nap by the unusual clamor, screamed and laughed:
“Hoot, hoo! who, who—who are you?”
“Confound the bird! I can’t hear for his cursed noise. Cato! oh, Cato!”
“Ha! hoo! hum! Polly cook for we all, who cooks for you all?” screamed the owl.
To one bred in a city the noise would have sounded like a person speaking the above words with a mouth full of pebbles; but he was acquainted with the sound and was incensed at the uproar.