He was strengthened in this belief by the fact that the whole party was pretty well exhausted by the labor of getting the boat and stores around, and was obliged to rest.
It had meant a walk of more than two miles, and everybody had been obliged to do his full part. The labor had been much heavier than Jai Singh had anticipated.
It was easy for all of them to fall asleep. The slumber they had had in the daytime was not so refreshing as this, with blackness around them and even the ordinary voices of nature stilled.
Chick had laid down by the side of the bloodhound, and was one of the first to lose himself. It had been arranged that they were to sleep for an hour and then go on.
The others each dropped down into any attitude that seemed comfortable, and in a few moments all were as oblivious to the outer world as Chick himself.
Suddenly a strange cry echoed through the blackness of the forest. It was a shriek of agony that echoed and reëchoed until it died away into a wailing moan. Hardly human, yet a sound that no animal could have produced.
Captain heard it; Chick knew that by the way he stirred and whimpered.
“What was that?” whispered Nick Carter.
In the deep gloom, Chick could see the detective sitting up, ready for action, his rifle across his knees.
“You heard it, did you?” asked Chick quietly. “It woke me.”