Fitz the Filibuster Part 37

"Of course you do. That's right enough."

"What's that?" cried Fitz, catching his companion by the arm; for there was a loud slap, as if the water of the river had suddenly received a sharp blow with the blade of an oar.

"I d'know," said Poole. "Boat coming, I think. Did you hear that, father?" And the speaker looked in the direction where the skipper had last been seen.

"Oh yes," was the reply, coming from outside one of the windows of the room they had strengthened with a breastwork.

"It's a boat coming, isn't it, father?"

"No, my lad," said the skipper, in a deep-toned growl. "It's one of the crocodiles or alligators fishing for its supper."

"No, no, Mr Reed," cried Fitz; "we mean that sound like a heavy slap on the water. There it goes again! That!"

"Yes, that's the sound I meant," said the skipper. "Sounds queer, doesn't it, in the darkness? But that's right. It's one of the great alligator fellows thrashing the water to stun the fish. This makes them turn up, and then the great lizardly thing swallows them down."

Fitz uttered a little grunt as if he thought it was very queer, and then went on nibbling his biscuit.

"Poole," he whispered, "what stupids we were not to go and fish before it got dark."

"That's just what I was thinking," was the reply.

"Yes," continued Fitz; "we hadn't as much sense as an alligator. I wish we had a good fish or two here."

"To eat raw?" said Poole scornfully. "Raw? Nonsense! We'd set old Andy to work."

"No, we shouldn't. How could we have a fire here? It would be like setting ourselves up for the enemy to fire at. Why, they could creep in through the jungle till they were fifty or sixty yards away, and take pot-shots at us. But only let us get to-night over, and we will go shooting or fishing as soon as it's day."

"Hark at that," said Fitz, catching him by the arm. "Here they come at last!" And not only the boys, but every one present but the skipper, felt a strange fluttering about the heart, as a curious hollow cry rose from somewhere at the edge of the jungle.

And then from out of the darkness there was a sharp _click, click_! of the lock of a rifle, the force of example bringing out quite a series of the ominous little sounds, which came forth sharp and clear as every one prepared to use his piece.

"Steady there, my lads!" growled the skipper. "You don't think you can shoot that bird?"

"There, laddies; I kenned it was a bird--one of them long-legged, big-beaked chaps that stand out in the water spearing eels. Wish we had got him now."

"Was that a bird, father?" whispered Poole. "Why, you ought to have known it was, my lad. There goes another, and another. If you listen you can hear the cry dying right away in the distance--one of those great cranes."

"Fine bird to keep for singing," said the cook, "only I want everything for the pot or the spit. There he goes again. What a rich voice, laddies! Sounds as if he were fat."

The rifles were unc.o.c.ked gently and carefully, and all sat listening again, thoroughly on the _qui vive_, for though fully expecting that the first warning of danger would be a shot from one of the sentries, all felt that there was a possibility of the enemy stealing up in the darkness and making a rush which would quite take them by surprise.

It was depressing work to the wakeful, and as the hours stole slowly on first one and then another, tired out with the exertions of the day, let his head sink upon his breast where he crouched and gave audible notice that he had forgotten everything in the way of danger, in sleep.

From time to time the boys kept up a desultory conversation, but at last this ceased, and Fitz suddenly lifted his head with a jerk and began to look wonderingly round at the great stars.

"What's the matter?" said Poole, in a startled way.

"I dunno," replied the middy. "It seemed to me that somebody got hold of me and gave me a jerk."

"That's just how I felt. Look out!"

Fitz did look out as far as the darkness would allow, and his hands began to turn moist against the stock of his gun; but there was nothing to be heard but the heavy breathing of the sleepers, and both lads were beginning to think that the start and jerk were caused by their having been asleep themselves, when there was a familiar voice close at hand.

"Well, lads, how are you getting on?"

"Not very well, father," replied Poole. "Is it all right?"

"Yes, my boy; I have heard nothing but the cries of the night birds, and the creeping of something now and then among the boughs."

"Think the enemy will come to-night, Mr Reed?" said Fitz.

"Can't say, my lad. They may, or they may not. If they knew how easily they could get the better of us they would make a rush. Tut, tut, tut!

Kick that fellow, Poole. Can't he sleep without snoring like that? Who is it?"

"I think it's Winks, father."

"Rouse him up, then."

"Eh? Hullo! All right! My watch?"

"No, no," said Poole. "Be quiet; you are snoring away as if you were sawing wood."

"Was I, my lad?" whispered the man. "Well, I believe I dreamed I was at that game. Any fighting coming off?"

"No, not yet."

"All right; then I'll have another nap."

But at that moment from out of the darkness, at apparently the edge of the jungle beyond the hacienda clearing, there was a sudden crashing as of the breaking of wood, followed instantly by an exceedingly shrill and piercing shriek, the rustle and beating of leaves, two or three low piteous sobs, and then silence for a few moments, followed by a soft rustling which died away.

"Steady there!" whispered the skipper, as he heard the click of a lock.

"Don't fire, my lad. It would only be wasting a charge."

"But the savage has killed somebody, Mr Reed," whispered Fitz, in a voice he did not know as his own; and he crouched rigidly there with the b.u.t.t of his piece to his shoulder, aiming in the direction of the sounds, and with every nerve upon the strain.

"Yes," said the skipper coolly; "the savage has killed somebody and has carried him off. There, you can hear the faint rustling still."

"But a savage could not carry a man off like that," said Fitz wonderingly.

"No," replied the skipper, with a low chuckle. "But that savage has gone off with the body he seized. Don't you know what it was, my lad?"

"No," replied Fitz wonderingly.

"Then I'll tell you, as far as I know myself. I should say that was one of those great cats, the tigers, as they call them here, the jaguars.

He was prowling along in one of those big trees till he could see a monkey roosting, and then it was a leap like a cat at a rat, and he carried him off."

"Ah!" said Fitz, with a sigh. "I thought it was something worse."

"Couldn't have been any worse for the monkey," said Poole, laughing.