From where they stood they were high enough to see that there was not so much as a bush above; all was grey, desolate, and strange, and the wonder to them was that the trees beneath them had not been burned up in one or other of the eruptions which must have taken place. Possibly, they felt, the sea winds had had some effect upon the falling ashes and hot steamy emanations and driven them from the forest, but it was a problem that they could not explain, and it was given up for the instant and left for future discussion.
There were other things to see that hot late afternoon, each full of wonder and beauty, and appealing to one or other of the party, each man finding enough to satisfy even his great desire for knowledge; and in turn, and with plenty of tolerance for each other’s branch of study, they paused to examine incrustations of sulphur, glorious orchids, and bird and beetle, gorgeous in colour, wonderful in make.
But nothing was collected, only noted for future exploration, and, growing faint, hot, and weary after an hour’s walking at the edge of the forest, they turned to retrace their steps, when Panton stepped upward for a few yards to try the edge of a little slope of fine ash—for the heat there was intense.
To his surprise the ashes into which he plunged his hands were quite cool, and yet the air around was at times almost suffocating.
“Must be a downward draught from the mountain top,” said Panton at last, and then he looked sharply round, for Oliver had suddenly cocked his gun.
“What is it?” asked the others.
“Look out. There’s something or somebody tracking us just inside the trees. I’ve seen the leaves move several times, but always thought it was the wind.”
“Hallo! Hark!” cried Drew, excitedly. “Don’t you hear?”
It was nearly sunset, and the little party knew that they had about an hour’s walk before they could reach camp. The darkness was fast approaching, but they stopped short to listen.
In vain for a few minutes, and they were about to start again, when the sound that had arrested Drew’s attention was heard plainly now by all—a long, low, piteous cry as of some one in agony, and in the great solitude of the mountain-side the cry was repeated, sending a chill of horror through the bravest there.