“Crooked enough, and long enough,” grumbled Jem. “Hark!”
Don listened, and heard a faint hail.
“They’re coming along searching for us, I suppose.”
“I didn’t mean that sound; I meant this. There, listen again.”
Don took a step into the cave, but went no farther, for Jem gripped his arm.
“Take care, my lad. ’Tarn’t safe. Hear that noise?”
“Yes; it is like some animal breathing hard.”
“And we’ve got no pistols nor cutlashes. It’s a lion, I know.”
“There are no lions here, Jem.”
“Arn’t there? Then it’s a tiger. I know un. I’ve seen ’em. Hark!”