“I hope so,” spoke Joe, in whose mind visions of vast treasures and strange, massive buildings were already rising. As for the others, perhaps they, too, even the professor, were also weaving castles in cloudland. At any rate, they were silent for a time, brooding over the great mystery to whose heart they hoped to penetrate ere long.
But the period of silence was not of lengthy duration. Mr. Tubbs, who possessed a good tenor voice, volunteered to sing a song.
“Is there anything he can’t do?” thought Nat.
The song he chose was “Old Kentucky Home.” When he came to the chorus the boys’ voices blended with his in the plaintive cadences of the music. It was a strange sound to be ringing out in that primeval place, where perchance the foot of civilized man had never trod before.
But the singing was due to terminate abruptly. Nat, who had been gazing outside the circle of firelight, caused the breaking off of the concert.
He sprang to his feet and seized up a rifle, calling on the others to do the same.
“What is it, my boy?” asked the professor, “a wild beast?”
“No—that is, I don’t think so,” rejoined the boy, whose face was rather pale. “I’m almost certain that what I saw was the figure of a man crouching over yonder and watching us.”
Exclamations of consternation filled the air.
“Indians!” gasped Ding-dong Bell.