“Yes, some one going away through the bushes. Those two hadn’t gone, and they were hiding.”
“Yes.”
“But are they both gone now?”
“I only heard one,” said Cyril, beginning to whistle a merry tune, but before he had got through the first strain, there was another faint rustling among the trees.
“There goes the other,” said Cyril quietly, and then he broke into a loud yawn. “Heigh—he—ha—hum,” he said. “How dark it has grown.”
“Listen,” whispered Perry.
“I heard it,” said Cyril. “One of the mules squeaking.”
“No, it was a horrible cry. Some one has been killed.”
“There goes another then,” said Cyril, as a peculiar sound came from the forest.
“Yes, they are killing the guides.”