The evening changed very rapidly into night, and with the darkness came the wonderful chorus of strange sounds from the jungle and banks of the river, the splashings and coughing, barking utterances giving warning that the crocodiles were still plentiful. The fire-flies were even more beautiful there than in the denser portion where the river banks were hidden by great timber trees, for on both sides lower down the low, shrub-like growth was more abundant.
The scene was very beautiful, with the star-studded, clear, dark, sky above, and the reflection as it were of another star-spangled heaven in the smooth, gliding water at their feet, while the myriads of fire-flies suggested the existence of another intermediate star sphere in constant motion, now scintillating, now dying out, and again as if floating along the opposite shore like a low cloud of tiny orbs, golden-green, golden, pale lambent, and occasionally ruddier than Aldebaran or some kindred star.
There was less disposition for sitting up talking that night, and soon after the fire was well replenished, and its necessity made plain.
Phra was the first to call attention to the distant cry, which was exactly that of some enormous cat far away in the jungle.
"Calling his mate," said Mr. Kenyon.
"Perhaps the tiger whose tracks Sree saw in the soft mud this evening," said Harry. "I suppose he will not come near our fire, or try to get on board. Think we ought to keep watch, father?"
"Oh no, my boy. We are floating out here a good thirty feet from the land."
"But suppose the boat drifts to the side in the night?" suggested
Phra.
"It is not probable, for we are right where the stream sets off the shore. We are not likely to be disturbed, boys. There is the proof."
Mr. Kenyon pointed to where the men had spread the mats over the horizontal bamboo, and were settling down to sleep.