They all listened, Rob hearing the shriek of some great parrot and the dull heavy throb of his heart, but from out of the dense growth a little way ahead he could make out a gurgling moan.
Shaddy gave him a look and a nod.
“No, my lad,” he said, “that isn’t a frog, nor anything else, but some animal as has got his death. It’s either that tiger, or else it’s a deer he has pulled down on his way. I’ll go and see.”
“Let me,” said Brazier; “and if it is only wounded I can fire again.”
“Powder and shot’s valuable out here, sir,” said Shaddy, “and we mustn’t waste a single charge. Stand fast, and if I want help come and give it to me; but I shan’t.”
He parted the bushes and creepers with his left hand holding his knife well before him with the right; but before he had gone six yards with great caution there was a horrible cry, and a sound as of a struggle going on—a sound which made Rob press forward and thrust the barrel of his gun in front of Brazier.
“Has he got hold of Shaddy?” he panted, with a chill of horror running through him.
“No, my lad; I’m all right—it’s all over,” cried the guide, as the sound ceased. “Ah! I can see him plain now: quite dead.”
“A deer?” said Brazier, eagerly.
“Deer don’t make a noise like that, sir,” said Joe from behind.