The Cliff Climbers | Page 7

to go all round, and see whether a better place
may not be discovered. To-night it is too late. It already begins to
darken; and we must have clear daylight for such a purpose. Let us
home to our hut, and have some supper and then go to rest--having first
prayed to Him for success. We may rise in better spirits, and continue
our examination in the morning."
To this proposal there was no objection on the part of either Caspar or
Ossaroo. On the contrary, the mention of supper--both being very
hungry--had caused them to start to their feet with remarkable alacrity;
and Karl, taking the lead, they followed him, Fritz in turn following
them.
On arriving at their hut, supper was cooked and eaten, with that zest
which hunger always gives, even to the coarsest viands; and, having
carried out the remaining part of the programme which Karl had
suggested--that is, the offering up a prayer for success on the morrow--

the trio sought their grass-covered couches with a feeling of renewed
hopefulness.
CHAPTER FIVE.
A MIDNIGHT INTRUDER.
They had been asleep several hours, when all three were suddenly
awakened by the barking of Fritz. During night hours the faithful
creature stayed habitually within the hut--where he also had his bed of
dry grass. On hearing any unusual noise without, he would rush forth
and prowl about for awhile; and, after satisfying himself that there was
no enemy in the neighbourhood, would return quietly to his lair.
Fritz was far from being a noisy dog. He had seen too much service,
and gathered too much wisdom, to waste his breath in idle barking; and
it was only upon grand and important occasions that he condescended
to give tongue. Then, however, his bark--or bay, it should rather be
termed-- was terrific.
On the occasion in question--which happened just about the hour of
midnight--the three sleepers were suddenly awakened by his expansive
"yowl," that filled the whole valley, and reverberating from the cliffs,
appeared continuous. The dog, after uttering this warning note, had
rushed out of the hut--which had no door to it--and it was from some
place down near the lake that his barking appeared to proceed.
"What can it be?" was the prompt and very natural inquiry of the three
individuals, whom Fritz had so abruptly awakened from their slumbers.
"Something Fritz is frightened at," said Caspar, who knew the dog's
nature better than either of the others. "He don't bark that way at any
sort of game that he knows he can conquer. It's some animal that's a
match for him, I warrant. If the old yak bull were still alive, I should
say it was he."
"There may be tigers in this valley; I never thought of that," rejoined
Karl. "Now that I do think of it," continued he, drawing upon the

reminiscences of his zoological reading, "it is quite probable. People
believe the tiger to be exclusively an inhabitant of tropical or
subtropical regions. That is an error. On this continent (the speaker was
in Asia) the royal Bengal tiger ranges at least as far north as the latitude
of London. I know he is found on the Amoor as high as the fiftieth
degree."
"Mercy on us!" broke in Caspar; "it may be a tiger, and we have never
thought of having a door to our hut! If it should be one--"
Here the hypothetic speech of Caspar was abruptly brought to a
conclusion, by a singular noise from without--which was heard
mingling in chorus with the baying of Fritz.
The noise in question bore some resemblance to the sound of a trumpet,
only sharper and more treble in its character. It was in effect more like
the squeak of a penny trumpet than the real article; and yet, withal,
there was something terrifying in the sound.
It must have terrified Fritz: for the moment after it was heard, the dog
came rushing back into the hut, as if pursued by a legion of horned
bulls; and, though he kept up his angry baying, he appeared altogether
disinclined to venture out again.
Just then, the singular noise was heard outside the door--something
between a shriek and a whistle--and this time with a far more terrifying
effect: since, whatever produced it--bird, beast, or man--was evidently
near, and still approaching nearer.
Of the three individuals within the hut, only one had ever before heard
a sound exactly similar to that. Ossaroo was the one. The old shikaree
recognised the noise the moment it reached his ears, and knew perfectly
well the sort of instrument that must have been producing it; but he was
hindered for a time from proclaiming his knowledge, by surprise, as
well as a strong feeling of terror at hearing such a sound in such