VI
NIGHT closed down on them among tangled mats and labyrinthine webs of heavy underbrush.
“Listen!” whispered Muella suddenly, with great black eyes staring out of her white face.
From far off in the jungle came a sound that was like a cough and growl in one.
“Ah! Augustine, did you hear?”
“Yes.”
“Was it a tigre?”
“Yes.”
“A trailing tigre?”
“Yes, but surely that could not have been Bernardo’s. His tigre would not give cry on a trail.”