A glance at the invalid showed that he was either asleep or fallen into a stupor. Forrester rose, and paced to and fro, half inclined to wake his friends before the time. The dismal hoot of an owl close at hand, several times repeated, jarred his nerves; by the natives the bird was suspected of possessing the power to scent out those about to die. Though scouting such superstitions, Forrester felt oppressed and uneasy, so that it was with real relief he heard, as he passed the tent, Mackenzie's voice rasp out from the interior:--
"De'il take the fowl!"
"You're awake, Mac?" he said, putting his head in.
"Who could sleep through yon soul-terrifying clamour?"
"Neither soft nor sweet," murmured Jackson. "How is he, Dick?"
"Asleep now, but he's been talking. As you're awake, get up, and I'll tell you."
Throwing rugs about them, they joined him, and all three returned to the fire. Forrester repeated the man's words, and showed them the paper.
"He's not daft, think ye, with his camels and monkeys?" said Mackenzie.
"He was sane enough when he drew this diagram," Forrester replied.
They examined it in turn.