“Eh! where?” cried Shaddy. “Nay, only the fire making it look as if the trees were waving. Nothing there, my lad. Whatever it is, it has slinked off into the forest again. The fire drew it this way, I suppose. There, we’ve heard the last of him for to-night. Sings well when he do oblige.”
“I should have liked to hear the cry once more, though,” said Brazier; and as the words left his lips the horrible noise rang out, apparently from behind the fire, and without hesitation the little party hurried on board the boat.
Chapter Twelve.
Shaddy’s Remorse.
That last movement was not performed without difficulty, for at this fresh alarm, urged by a desire for self-preservation, the men had thrust the boat away from the bank, and were actually in the act of unfastening the mooring rope, when Rob shouted to Shaddy.
“What!” he roared, running to the other end where it was fast to a branch, and then yelling out such a furious tirade of words in their own tongue that the men shrank back, and the boat was drawn close in among the boughs that were worn sharp by the action of the stream.
“Lucky for them,” growled Shaddy, as he held the boat’s gunwale for the others to get on board, while the singular silence which had followed the first cry of the beast was again maintained. “I never did break a man’s neck yet, Master Rob,” he whispered, as they took their places on board, “and I never mean to if I can help it; but if those fellows had run off and left us in the lurch I’d have gone as far as I could without doing it quite.”
“First catch your hare,” whispered back Rob, who felt better now he was safe on board, with the boat gliding outward to the full length of the mooring line.