"Yes, that is a pretty good sign," said the doctor; "the men would not take matters so coolly if there were any danger from tigers."
"Did the Sahibs hear the big tiger calling?" said Sree, thrusting his head out from beneath the men's awning.
"Yes, quite plainly," said Harry. "Think he'll come prowling about the fire, so as to give us a shot?"
"No, no, Sahib," replied the man, shaking his head; "he will be too careful."
"That was a clever way of putting it, Hal," said the doctor drily. "You did not say, Is there any fear of the tiger's swimming out to us?"
"No; why should I tell him that I was a bit nervous?" replied Harry frankly; "even if one does feel a bit scared, I can't help it, can I, father?"
"No, my boy; it is quite natural to feel a little nervous, and to make sure that one's gun is loaded and close at hand. But we must get used to these noises. We can't expect to come out here and live in such a wild place without being a bit startled sometimes. Good-night, boys. But you have not fastened down that mat to shut out the night air."
"Just going to, father," replied Harry. "I don't think, though, that we shall have so much mist here."
The final good-nights were said just as the last murmurs of the men's conversation forward died out, and then all was still, the darkness being relieved by the rays from the fire, which crackled and burned merrily, the light coming quite brightly at times through the interstices of the mats, and then, as the smoke rolled up decreasing again; while after shifting his position to get into a more comfortable attitude, Harry Kenyon drew a long, deep breath, with a touch of a yawn in it, and then told himself that he did not mean to feel in the slightest degree nervous about the strangeness of their position, but was going to have a good, long night's rest.