I.
re you awake, sahibs?" questioned Hassan, our guide, as he eagerly roused us from sleep one night. "The Hunted Tribe of Three Hundred Peaks is about its deadly work: Listen!"
"LISTEN!"
We sat up and leant forward as he spoke, straining our ears to catch the slightest sound. Across the plain which stretched before us came at intervals a faint cry, which sounded like the hoot of a night bird.
"That is their strange signal," continued the Arab.
We rose, and, going to the door of the tent, scanned the wide plain, but could see no human being crossing it.
"You are mistaken this time, Hassan," said Denviers. "What you heard was an owl hooting."
"The sahib it is who misjudges," answered the Arab, calmly. "I have heard the warning note of the tribe before."