"Listen, and see if you hear anything," he said. "I've been hearing a queer noise for the last ten minutes but maybe it's only my imaginations."
His companions stopped and listened.
"No, it isn't your imagination," the captain declared. "I can hear it, too—a kind of peculiar noise I can't describe."
"It sounds like the soft smacking of a thousand lips," Walter said. "I wonder what it is."
"We will soon find out," Charley replied. "It seems to come from somewhere ahead."
As they advanced, the peculiar noise became more distinct. It grew steadily in volume until at last they stood at what had once been the mouth of a creek, but which was now closed up, at the entrance, by a small mound of drifted sand, thus changing the former creek into a small lake.
"My goodness! Look at it!" gasped Charley, weakly, pointing at the land-locked pond.
"Jumping Moses," swore the captain, the nearest approach to an oath he ever permitted himself to use.
The peculiar noise came from the lake's surface. It was literally covered with tiny, open, gaping mouths.