I should think that we had gone about a quarter of a mile, straining our eyes to catch sight of an enemy on either side as we made our way through what was like a dense bank of darkness, when, loud and clear upon the night air, rang out a wild, strange cry, which made us instinctively stop to listen.
Twice more it rang out, evidently distant, but still plainly heard as it echoed along the ravine.
“It is some beast of prey, but it will not come near us,” said my uncle, to encourage Mrs Landell.
“Harry, what is it?” whispered Lilla.
Her soft arm was passed round my neck as she clung, trembling, to me, unable to master her agitation.
“We must push on,” I said.
Once more the mules were in motion when the cry rang out again, louder and clearer this time.
I did not answer Lilla’s question, for I thought it better not; but I had my own thoughts upon the subject, and I was wondering whether my uncle suspected the meaning of the cry, when I was startled by a voice which seemed to rise out of the darkness.
“Mas’r Harry—Mas’r Harry! I shall never forgive myself. Only to think of me being the one as tied the last knot, and then never to think of gagging him. He’ll be there shouting till he brings down all the Indians within twenty miles. Let’s make haste, for I sha’n’t breathe till we get out of this great long furrer here.”
The darkness was still so thick that we could hardly see the bushes against which we brushed, while even when passing beneath dense masses of foliage there seemed to be no difference. A hundred enemies might have been right in front of us, and we should have walked right into their midst.