“No, no; not them. I know what a wultur is. These is different things to them. Let’s get away, sir, do.”
“What do you mean, then?” persisted Mark. “Do you think there are goblins in the wood?”
“Something o’ that sort, sir, but don’t speak out loud. They might hear, and not like it.”
“But goblins out here wouldn’t understand English,” said Mark laughing; but all the same it was rather a forced laugh, for the little sailor’s evident dread was infectious.
“I wouldn’t laugh if I was you, Mr Mark, sir. Come along.”
“Shout,” cried Mark, ashamed of the shadow of cowardice which had begun to envelop him, and he gave forth a loud “Ahoy!”
Ha—ha—ha!
Wauck!
The same two responses, but decidedly closer; and as Billy gripped the lad’s arm again they heard from out of the darkest part of the jungle close by a peculiar chuckling, as if some one were thoroughly enjoying their predicament.
“Did yer hear that?” whispered Billy, whose sun-tanned visage was now quite pallid and mottled with muddy grey.