They were standing for a moment, looking for the best way to retrace their steps, when out of the black silence behind them there came a faint, far-off cry.
Tim clutched the doctor's coat. Davy turned white.
"Wha'—what's that?" they whispered together.
The three stood motionless, listening, and again the sound arose. It came from the far-off edge of the Drowned Lands, faint, and full of agony, like a human voice calling for help.
"The banshee!" whispered Tim in terror.
"Oh, Lord save us!" groaned Davy.
In spite of his concern, Gilbert laughed. "It's somebody caught in the mud, you young idiots!" he cried. "Listen!"
Once more the cry came floating out, terrible in its appeal. "Help, h-e-l-p!" it called faintly.
Davy gave a leap. "That's her! That's the banshee!" he gasped. "Come on! Run! It always calls folks like that—into the Drowned Lands—an' they never come back! Run!"
"Shut up, you fool!" cried Gilbert sharply. "Listen to me. You two get back to the road as quickly as you can. Come! I'll show you out with the light."