For the moment before Shaddy asked his question a blood-curdling, agonising yell, as of some being in mortal agony, rang out from across the river.
“Ay, ’tis lively. First time I heered that I says to myself, ‘That’s one Injun killing another,’ and I cocked my rifle and said to myself again, ‘well, he shan’t do for me.’”
“And was it one Indian murdering another in his sleep?”
Shaddy chuckled.
“Not it, lad. Darkness is full of cheating and tricks. You hears noises in the night, and they sound horrid. If you heered ’em when the sun’s shining you wouldn’t take any notice of ’em.”
“But there it is again,” whispered Rob, as the horrible cry arose, and after an interval was repeated as from a distance. “Whatever is it?”
“Sort o’ stork or crane thing calling its mate and saying, ‘Here’s lots o’ nice, cool, juicy frogs out here. Come on.’”
“A bird?”
“Yes. Why not? Here, you wait a bit, and you’ll open your eyes wide to hear ’em. Some sings as sweet as sweet, and some makes the most gashly noises you can ’magine. That’s a jagger—that howl, and that’s a lion again. Hear him! He calls out sharper like than the other. You’ll soon get to know the difference. But I say, do go and have a sleep now, so as to get up fresh and ready for the day’s work. I shall have lots to show you to-morrow.”
“Yes, I’ll go and lie down again soon. But listen to that! What’s that booming, roaring sound that keeps rising and falling? There, it’s quite loud now.”