“The only thing likely to attack us to-night, Nat,” he said, laughing; “but we’ll have the guns and everything ready all the same.”
“To shoot the mosquitoes, uncle?”
“No, but anything that might—mind, I say might—come snuffing about us.”
Uncle Dick was so calm and cool over it that he made me the same, and the little nervous sensation caused by the novelty of my position soon passed away. The guns were loaded and laid ready, a couple of blankets spread, and utterly wearied out, after making up the fire, we crept into our tent and lay down to get a good night’s sleep.
“We’ll rest on shore wherever it’s safe, Nat,” were Uncle Dick’s last words. “It’s nicer to have the solid ground under you. This is a treat; the sand’s like a feather bed; but we shan’t often have such a luxurious place. Good-night.”
“One moment, uncle,” I whispered, as I heard a rustling sound somewhere in the bushes. “What do you think is making that?”
I waited for him to answer, under the impression that he was listening to make sure before he replied; but as he took no heed, I spoke again, but only to hear his hard breathing, for he was fast asleep, and I started up in horror, for the strange rustling sound, as of a huge snake or alligator creeping through the dry grass and bushes, began again much nearer than before.