"So it is. I challenge any beings to yell more savagely than those fearful hoot owls. Something must have happened to them, Ris, for they've never made a mutter all day long."
"Because they have been asleep," answered Orissa. They had to speak loudly to be heard above the turmoil of shrieks, although the owls seemed mainly congregated upon the distant mountain. The rocks everywhere were full of them, however, and hoots and answering hoots resounded from every part of the island. It was fairly deafening, as well as annoying and uncanny. They waited in vain for the noise to subside.
"There must be thousands of them," observed Sybil. "What's the row about, do you suppose!"
"Perhaps it's their nature to, Syb. I wonder why we didn't hear the pests last night. When we wakened this morning all was silent as the grave."
"I think we floated into the bay about daylight, when all the big-eyes had ducked into their holes. Do you know, Ris, the owls must be responsible for the absence of all other life on the island? They dote on snakes and lizards and beetles and such, and they'd rob the nests of any other birds, who couldn't protect themselves in the nighttime. So I suppose they've either eaten up all the other creatures or scared them to death."
"That must be so. But, oh, Sybil! if this racket keeps up every night how are we going to be able to sleep?"
"Ah. Just inquire, Cap'n, and if you find out, let me know," replied Sybil, yawning. "I got up so early this morning that I'm dead for sleep this blessed minute."
"Lie down; I'll keep watch."
"Thank you. This lullaby is too entrancing to miss."