But never a leaf stirred, and as the moon sank lower and lower towards those strangely rugged and serrated mountains of the west, the boys themselves joined the sleepers, and all their care and anxiety was for the time being forgotten.
The night waned and waned. The sentries had been changed, and it was now nearly one o'clock.
There was a lake about a mile above the camp, that is, a mile farther westwards. It was surrounded by tall waving reeds, at least an acre wide all round.
The home par excellence of the dreaded 'gator was this dark and sombre sheet of water, for to it almost nightly came the tapirs to quench their thirst and to bathe.
Silently a troop of these wonderful creatures came up out of the forest to-night, all in a string, with the largest and oldest a little way in front.
Every now and then these pioneers would pause to listen. They knew the wiliness of the enemy that might be lying in wait for them. So acute in hearing are they said to be that they can distinguish the sound of a snake gliding over withered leaves at a distance of a hundred yards. But their sight also is a great protection to them. No 'gator can move among the reeds without bending them, move he never so warily. Above all this, the tapir's sense of smell is truly marvellous.
To-night the old tapirs that led the van seemed particularly suspicious and cautious. Their signal for silence was a kind of snort or cough, and this was now ofttimes repeated.
Suddenly the foremost tapir stamped his foot, and at once the whole drove turned or wheeled and glided back as silently as they had come, until the shadows of the great forest swallowed them up.
What had they seen or heard? They had seen tall, dark human figures--one, two, three--a score and over, suddenly raise their heads and shoulders above the reeds, and after standing for a moment so still that they seemed part and parcel of the solemn scene, move out from the jungle and take their way towards the slumbering camp.
Savages all, and on a mission of death.