“But you see, Mr Mark, sir, it aren’t no use to wish. Lawk a me! sir, the number o’ things I’ve wished for in my life—’bacco, knives, a silver watch, silk hankychies, lots o’ things, but I never got ’em.”
“Never mind them now. Let’s shout.”
“With a will, then, sir, and put your back into it. One, two, three, and ahoy!”
The peculiar duet rang out over the trees—a loud and piercing cry—and as it died away, Billy caught at Mark’s arm, and gripped it tightly; his eyes staring wildly, with the pupils dilating, as from some little distance off on one side there came a mocking “Ha—ha—ha!” and from the other direction a peculiar hoarse barking croak, which can best be expressed by the word “Wauck!”
“Let’s get away from here, Mr Mark, sir,” whispered Billy. “I don’t like this.”
“Get away?”
“Yes, sir; they’re a-making fun of us.”
“Who are?”
“Oh, I don’t know who they are, sir, but it’s something. Let’s get away, sir, fast as we can.”
“Which way?”