Chapter Thirty One.
A bi-startler.
“What’s that?” cried Jack, starting up into a sitting position, to face Ned, who rubbed his eyes and stared.
“I dunno, sir; sounded to me like a horrid shriek.”
“Yes; that was what woke me, Ned,” said Jack in an awestricken whisper. “It sounded like some one being killed.”
“There it is again!” cried Ned, as a harsh, shrill sound arose from close at hand, to be followed by a chorus of discordant cries, which seemed to run in by them to be echoed and made more hollow and strange.
“Talk about sharpening saws,” said Ned, as he hurriedly began to dress, “why that’s lovely to it. Cockatoos, that’s what it is. Good job it’s daylight, or I should have been thinking that we’d come to sleep in an awful place.”
“I couldn’t make out where we were, Ned, for some time. Did you sleep well?”