“Oh no. I don’t doubt it now,” whispered Rob, as he listened to fish after fish rising, and all apparently very large.
“Makes a man wonder what they are jumping after, unless it is the stars shining in the water. You hear that?”
“Yes.”
“And that, too?”
“Yes, I hear them,” replied Rob, unable to repress a shiver, so strange and weird were the cries which came mournfully floating across.
“Well, them two used to puzzle me no end—one of ’em a regular roar and the other quite a moan, as if somebody was a-dying.”
“You know what it is now?”
“Yes, and you’d never guess, my lad, till you said one was made by a bird.”
“A bird?”
“Yes, a long-legged heron kind of thing as trumpets it out with a roar like a strange, savage beast; and the other moaning, groaning sound is made by a frog. I don’t mind owning it used to scare me at first.”