“Does it make you feel queer like, Mr Brace?” whispered Lynton.
“Well, it sets me wondering, and makes me a little uncomfortable as to what the sound can be,” replied Brace.
“So it does me, sir. Always makes me feel queer if I don’t understand what a noise is. I’m a bit of a coward, I’m afraid.”
“I’ve never seen any signs of it yet, Lynton,” said Brace, laughing softly.
“Oh, but I am, sir. That sound made me feel hot and then cold. I say, I’ve lost count about the points of the compass, but that’s plain enough yonder across and up the river. That’s the east, and the moon coming up.”
“That?” said Brace, as he gazed in the direction named. “Yes, I suppose so. It will be very beautiful when the moon rises over the mountain there and lights up the great cañon. I feel disposed to wait till it shines on the river.”
“Moon!” said Briscoe, who had returned unheard, smoking vigorously, and looking in the darkness as if a firefly were gliding to their side. “We shan’t see the moon to-night. It must have set a couple of hours ago.”
“Of course,” said Brace, “and that can’t be the east. I should say it’s the west.”
“What, where that—I say, what light is that over there?”
“Yes, what can it be?” said Brace, as he gazed at the soft glow. “It can’t be a forest fire.”