I was about handing the bag to Fred, when a wild, shrill scream, apparently proceeding from our very midst, was heard, startling us by its unnatural character.
Fred dropped the bag, and sprang for his rifle, which was lying near him, ready for use, while Smith and the stockman appeared paralyzed with terror.
"For God's sake what noise was that?" asked the stockman.
Before we could reply, we heard an answering yell, which appeared to be distant about a quarter of a mile, while near at hand, the rustling of the bushes showed that either an enemy or a wild beast was regarding our movements.
"Who goes there?" cried Fred, bringing his rifle to his shoulder.
There was no reply, but I thought I detected a chuckling laugh which sounded familiar. Before I could interpose, Fred had fired at the moving bushes, and for a brief second the clearing was lighted up with the flash of his rifle. I glanced towards the hole in which Steel Spring had been at work; it was empty; that notorious liar and singular genius had made himself scarce.
Hardly had the echo of the rifle died away, before another yell, more searching and protracted than the first, again started our party, for it seemed to proceed from a tree not more than a rod distant; even the hound appeared disconcerted at the noise, and seemed undecided whether to attack or wait for more decided manifestations.
"God be with us," cried the stockman, suddenly grasping his long-barrelled gun; "let us make the best of our way from the forest, or by morning we shall not be alive."
"Of what are you afraid?" demanded Fred. "A wolf cannot harm you, and at the worst, a wildcat or two are no match for us well-armed men."
"There are no wolves on the island, and wildcats are unknown," replied the stockman, calmly.