“This is by no means an isolated case,” answered Mr. Evans. “Many strange sounds, real or imaginary, have been heard in the workings of nature’s processes. Travelers tell us that on a distant island in the Bay of Bengal there exists a phenomenon known as the ‘Barisal guns,’ which is frequently heard at the beginning of a rain-fall, and is like the sound of the firing of a cannon. Some have decided that these sounds are atmospheric, and owe their origin to electricity. A traveler, whose name I have forgotten, writing about the villages of the Himalayas, describes exceedingly powerful noises heard in some of the mountain peaks, to which the natives can ascribe no cause. Near one of these villages is a pond which the natives carefully shun, because frightful noises issue from its depths. Well, you have seen your new home at a distance, and now we will go down and take a nearer view of it.”
Arthur scarcely closed his eyes in slumber that night. He consulted his watch at short intervals, and heard that strange noise every time it was repeated.
It sounded indescribably weird and dismal in the stillness of the night, and Arthur became so worked up over it at last, that, whenever his watch told him that the imprisoned giant was about to resume his efforts to free himself, he drew the blankets about his head and held his hands over his ears, so that he might not hear the captive’s agonized breathing.
Daylight brought some of his courage back to him; but as often as the three hours drew to a close, he became visibly nervous and excited.
The travelers resumed their journey at an early hour, and at one o’clock in the afternoon they entered the valley. The newcomers were not at all disappointed in it. It proved to be even pleasanter than it looked from the distance at which they viewed it through their field-glasses.
Arthur thought it would be a nice place to live if that giant would only give up his useless struggles and die, and the country was settled by people of his own class, so that he could have somebody to associate with.
He knew little about books, and cared less. He took no interest whatever in the hunting and fishing to which Bob and George were looking forward with so much eagerness. He was too lazy to ride on horseback for pleasure, and for the life of him he could not see how he was going to put in the time.
The ranch was much more comfortable and better furnished than the little house in which he had formerly lived, but Arthur did not at all like the appearance of those who took care of it.
They were all men, rough in dress and manners, and loud and familiar in speech, and the greetings which they and a small army of dogs extended to Bob Howard were boisterous in the extreme.
Bob stood among them, giving one hand to be shaken by the men, stooping down now and then to caress a favorite hound or setter with the other, utterly unable to speak, but smiling all the while through the tears that would come into his eyes in spite of all he could do to keep them back, while Uncle Bob and Arthur were entirely unnoticed.