“Well, Gregory, what do you make it?” said the captain, who had rather doubted before.
“Don’t know—some beast of the forest.”
“You have heard nothing before?”
“Not a sound. Small thinks it must be a lion.”
“Well, something of that kind, sir. I once heered a lion make such a row that he nearly blew off the roof of his cage! but it wasn’t quite the same as this here, as is hollerer.”
“Well,” said the captain, “it can’t be a lion; and as it does not seem disposed to molest us we must be—”
He stopped short, for there was a low moan from the same direction as that in which they had heard the cry.
“Is that something it has killed?” whispered Mark in an awe-stricken voice.
The captain did not answer; and as all listened for a repetition of the sounds the day began to dawn rapidly, the birds twittered and piped, and shrieked at the edge of the jungle, while flecks of orange and scarlet appeared high up in the sky.
Then a low murmur of admiration burst from the group as they saw a roseate cloud upon the top of the conical mountain begin to glow and burst into a dozen tints of purple and gold, shot with the most effulgent hues; and then slowly there was a glowing point to be seen just above the cloud, which circled it like a ring of gorgeously-coloured vapour; then slowly the light descended the mountain till from top to bottom it was aglow with purple and green and orange; and they turned sharply, to see that the sun was just rolling up over the smooth sea, spreading a pathway of light from the horizon to the isle.