“Then it was some beast in the forest. There they are, any number of them. Frog perhaps, or an owl: they make very queer sounds.”
Rob shook his head.
“I say, don’t look so scared, my lad, just as if you were going to be ill. I tell you what it was: one of those howling spider monkeys at a distance.”
“There again!” cried Rob, starting up,—an example followed by the guide, who was impressed by the peculiar faint cry; and as Rob seized his companion’s arm, the
latter said, with a slight suggestion of nervousness in his tone:
“Now, what beast could that be? But there, one never gets used to all the cries in the forest. Here, what’s the matter? Where are you going, my lad?”
“To see—to see,” gasped Rob.
“Not alone, Mr Rob, sir. I don’t think it is, but it may be some dangerous creature, and I don’t want you to come to trouble. Got enough without. Hah! there it goes again.”
For there was the same peculiar smothered cry, apparently from the edge of the forest, close to where they had raised their hut.