Before retiring, they took account of their weapons and ammunition. Joe’s rifle was the only firearm in their possession, but both boys had a large supply of cartridges that should last a long time. With cautious use they might make them satisfy their needs for several days. But after that? Still there was no use worrying about the future. They could let it take care of itself. At present they were safe.
“I’ll take the first guard,” said Bob, half an hour later. “You turn in and get several hours’ sleep. I’ll call you when the night’s half over.”
Joe grudgingly consented. He had intended to stand watch first.
Bob heaped the fire up high and had a good supply of fuel ready to keep it blazing constantly.
But when ten minutes had passed he smothered it down to half the size it had been. It was not wise to keep it too high, for though it was a sure protection from wild animals, it might attract the attention of hostile Indians.
“Have to prevent that at any cost,” the young man thought.
Bob sat moodily fingering his rifle, gazing into the dark depths of the jungle. From afar came a terrorizing howl of some beast that had fallen victim of a stronger enemy. Shortly later there came another howl of different origin. Then another, another, until the whole jungle rang with fiendish cries.
It was enough to frighten anyone, and Bob stared rather fearfully into the surrounding forest, wondering what tragedies were going on at that moment.
“Probably scores of creatures being killed,” he thought, shifting uneasily.
Nothing happened throughout his watch, and he at last moved over and tapped Joe on the back. The latter jumped to his feet as if shot, and gazed fearfully about, as if expecting to see a band of cannibals rush in on them. But a moment later he smiled sheepishly.