“No,” said Joe; “I don’t suppose he would be able to tell us. It sounds so horrible in the darkness.”
“Why, I thought you were too much used to the river to be frightened at anything.”
“I did not say I was frightened,” replied Joe quietly.
“No, but weren’t you? I thought the thing was coming on right at the boat.”
“So did I,” said Joe, very softly. “Yes, I was frightened too. I don’t think any one could help being startled at a thing like that.”
“Because we could not see what it was,” he continued thoughtfully. “I fancied I knew all the animals and fish about the river, but I never heard or saw anything that could be like that.”
Just then they heard a soft, rustling sound behind, such, as might have been made by a huge serpent creeping on to the boat; and as they listened intently the sound continued, and the boat swayed slightly, going down on one side.
“It’s coming on,” whispered Rob, with his mouth feeling dry and a horrible dread assailing him, as in imagination he saw a huge scaly creature gliding along the side of the boat and passing the covered-in canvas cabin.
It was only a matter of moments, but it was like hours to the two boys. The feeling was upon Rob that he must run to the fore-part, leap overboard, and swim ashore, but he could not move. Every nerve and muscle was paralysed, and when he tried to speak to his fellow-watcher no words came; for, as Joe told his companion afterwards, he too tried to speak but was as helpless.
At last, in that long-drawn agony of dread, as he fully expected to be seized, Rob’s presence of mind came back, and he recollected that his gun was lying shotted beneath the canvas of the sail at the side, and, seizing it with the energy of despair, he swung the piece round, cocking both barrels as he did so, and brought them into sharp contact with Joe’s arm.