“Indians,” was his first thought. But then:
“That sounds like somebody snoring, and Indians who were coming to attack us wouldn’t announce their presence like that,” thought Ding-dong.
The snoring noise continued. Joe was on the other side of the dirigible, while Ding-dong was on the river end of it.
“It’s a good chance to distinguish myself,” thought the lad, “after the mess I made of that gas cylinder this afternoon. I’ll just creep down there and see what on earth that racket is.”
He began tiptoeing softly toward the river bank, while the grunting, snoring sound still continued.
“I do believe it’s some one asleep down there,” exclaimed the lad to himself. “Maybe I’ll make a prisoner and get even on Joe for laughing at me.”
His mind full of these visions of glory, Ding-dong at last reached the river bank. Behind him he could hear Joe softly calling, but he made no answer.
“I’m going to investigate this thing alone,” he said to himself.
Lying flat on his stomach Ding-dong peered cautiously over the bank. He could see the gleam of the water about ten feet below him and—what was that? Two dark figures, that appeared to have bulk of considerable size, moving about in the water? One was larger than the other, and it didn’t take the boy long to make out that whatever the mysterious objects were, they were not human beings.
“Wonder if they’re panthers?” thought the boy with a sudden chill. But then he recollected that panthers are not in the habit of prowling about in the river bottom.