All at once the man stopped short.
“He sees us,” said Don, mentally.
But he was wrong, for the sailor thrust his fingers into his mouth and gave a shrill whistle, which ran echoing through the place in a curiously hollow way.
“That’s a rum un,” he said, with a laugh. “Blow some o’ the foul air out. Wonder how far he went in?”
He walked on slowly, and then stopped short as if he saw the hiding pair; but there was no gesture made, and of course his face was invisible to the fugitives, to whom he seemed to be nothing but a black figure.
“Plaguey dark!” ejaculated the man aloud.
Hiss–s–s–s!
A tremendously loud sibillation came out of the darkness—such a noise as a mythical dragon might have made when a stranger had invaded his home. The effect was instantaneous. The young sailor spun round and darted back to the mouth of the cave, where he half lowered himself down over the shelf facing toward the entry, and supporting himself with one hand, shook his fist.
“You wait till I come back with a lanthorn!” he cried. “I’ll just show you. Don’t you think I’m scared.”
Whos–s–s–s–s came that hissing again, in a loud deep tone this time, and the sailor’s head disappeared, for he dropped down and hastily descended after his messmates, flushed and excited, but trying hard to look perfectly unconcerned, and thoroughly determined to keep his own counsel as to what he had heard, from a perfect faith in the effect of the disclosure—to wit, that his companions would laugh at him.