"Tom's right, boys. We must make up our minds, hard as it is, to camp on this side to-day. It'd be easy enough to do as Tom says, row over to that island. Supposin', though, the water went down a lot during the night; we might have to drag the boat over a lot of mud to get to the river-bank to-morrow. Bes' stay where we——"
"S-s-h! Listen a moment, Joe," interjected Tom from the bow of the boat. "What noise's that?"
"Don't hear anythin' 'cept the river. What sort o' noise, Tom?"
"I heered it, Joe," said Yellow Billy. "Bear cryin', I bin thinkin'. Heer it now."
All the boys could hear the sounds now, faint enough, yet distinct above the flood roar.
"Bear, I 'speck! Have a good look round, boys."
All eyes were bent in the direction of the sound. They scanned the trees for that strange, pouch-bearing—half bear, half sloth—animal called the native bear. Strictly speaking, it is neither bear nor sloth, being a perfectly harmless, tailless marsupial of the koala genus. Its cry is intensely, and often pathetically, human.
For some time the search was unrewarded; while ever and anon a cry, strangely like an infant's wail, came to the ears of the searchers.
"P'r'aps, after all, it's only the wind in the river oaks; or is it a——"
"Look, boys! look, look!" cried Tom excitedly. "What's that over at the edge of the timber, up there in a fork?"