There was no rustling of the undergrowth, though, nor sign of an eager white face peering out of the dim twilight among the great shadowy tree-trunks, but a noise arose from the distance, which sent a thrill through every one present, and made all strain their ears in the direction of the shore, for it was the murmur of a crowd.
It was a strange, awe-inspiring sound, suggesting a horrible death at the hands of merciless savages, and, acting under one impulse, the two sailors glanced at Panton, and Drew saw plainly enough their startled look of horror, as they turned and ran as hard as they could go back along the edge of the forest toward the brig.
“The cowardly hounds!” said Panton, between his teeth, and he involuntarily cocked his gun. “I could find it in my heart to send a charge of shot after them.”
“Let them go,” cried Drew, bitterly. “We must hide here in the forest. They will warn Mr Rimmer, and perhaps it’s best.”
He finished his speech with the loud wok, wok, wawk again.
“Do stop that abominable row,” cried Panton, whom the weakness had made irritable. “You’ll bring the niggers straight to us.”
“I sha’n’t stop it,” said Drew, coolly, and he repeated the call. “There!” he cried triumphantly, “that was it, exactly.”
“Pish!” said Panton.
“I told you so,” said Drew, excitedly, as the murmur of the approaching Papuans came nearer, and at the same moment there was a rushing of wings, as half a dozen large birds perched in one of the trees and gave proof of the exactitude of the botanist’s imitation by answering loudly, as if to say, “Who was it called?”
Meanwhile Smith and Wriggs had run as hard as they could go for about a hundred and fifty yards, and then, once more moved by the same impulse, they pulled up short.