"Maybe it was some one calling to us—some of the searching party from the Magnolia," suggested Paul.
"Let's give an answer, then," came from Russ.
"Magnolia ahoy!" cried Paul, and the young moving picture operator joined in with his powerful voice.
There was no answer for a moment, and all about in the black woods was silence. Off on shore glowed the faint sparks of the smudge-fire.
"They didn't hear you," said Alice, softly.
And then, vibrating on the night, and echoing through the trees, came that dreadful cry again; weird, long-drawn-out, a howl—a fiendish laugh, ending in a choking giggle and then a shrill whine.
"Oh—oh!" gasped Ruth, and she and Alice clung together, leaning on Mrs. Maguire.
"It's like the wail of a lost soul," whispered Alice.
"Sure, and it must be an Irish banshee!" murmured Mrs. Maguire. "I've heard my mother tell of 'em!"
"It's a wild beast, that's all," said Paul, though his voice was not steady as usual. For the cry, coming out of the darkness, perhaps from a spot where some animal crouched, ready to spring down on them, was not reassuring.