CHAPTER V.--FIGHTING THE GORILLAS.
Frank and Duncan had undoubtedly been rash. They had penetrated for fully a mile into the gloomy depths of this dark, primeval forest. The sun-life of beautiful birds and luscious fruits--Frank's paradise--they had left far behind. Here was nothing that could be called inviting: slimy, rotting leaves on the bare ground, with here and there a huge and ugly toadstool; and the branchless trunks of mighty trees covered with white and yellow mildew or flour-like fungi. And these trees towered skywards, forming a dark green canopy overhead, that no sunlight could ever penetrate, nor moonlight or star-rays at night.
The silence for some time had been both cold and irksome. I cannot otherwise describe it.
But now that dread silence was broken, and not only high overhead, but far away in front, the forest suddenly awoke into a sylvan pandemonium.
What yells, what shrieks, what hoarse and fearful cries!
The boys instinctively drew closer together, and stood ready to shoot.
But nothing appeared, though the awful noises increased rather than diminished.
Frank saw Duncan's lips moving, but he could hear nothing.
Surely they were in a demon-haunted forest.
They looked at each other, then at once commenced a speedy retreat.