“Hark at that now!” he said. “Hark at that, Masther Jack!”
And he half rose and made as if to flee to the shelter of the waggon.
“Yes, I heard it, Dinny,” said Jack quietly. “It was pretty loud wasn’t it?”
“Loud, Masther Jack? It was horrid, shure! And why don’t ye shoot?”
“Because there’s nothing to shoot at.”
“Nothing to shute at? Jist hark at him! Why, there it is again.”
As Dinny said, there it was again; and certainly the noise was terrible and awe-inspiring, heard in the stillness of the night by the crackling of the great fire, whose glow lit up waggon and trees around in a strange way, casting grotesque shadows behind.
“Well, it’s ever so far-off; and I don’t know what it is. Perhaps it’s an elephant,” said Jack.
“An illephant!” said Dinny, in tones of disgust; “jist as if an illephant ever made a noise like that! Why, it’s a lion, Masther Jack.”
“Nonsense, Dinny! Lions don’t make a noise like that.”