Suddenly another sound came down from the lower part of the mountains. It began with a deep, long-drawn, hollow cry, between a howl and a moan, and then broke into a wild, piercing shriek.
The farmer started to his feet, and stood gazing in the direction from which the cry had come.
"It's only a stray dog howling," said Brent.
Reinfelter turned toward his wife, and the moonlight showed that his face was white with terror.
"De warnoong!" he said, in a low voice. "D'r geishter-shray foon de bairga!"
The woman covered her face with her hands, and began trembling and sobbing. Rena put her arms around her mother's neck and tried to comfort her, as if she had been the mother instead of the child.
The sound broke out again, and this time it was louder and more distinct than before. As the melancholy echoes died away, Rena rose, and, taking her mother's hand in hers, led her toward the house.
When they had gone, Brent said, "What do you think that sound is?"
"It's the warning still," said Reinfelter. "It's the warning of death."
"What is it made by?"