Through Forest and Stream | Page 7

and that chirruping whirring is something in the cricket or cicada way. If we heard a jaguar or puma, it would most likely be a magnified tom-cat-like sort of sound."
"But that mournful howl, uncle?" I whispered.
"A poor, melancholy spider-monkey saying good-night to his friends in the big trees. Most of the other cries are made by night-birds out on the hunt for their suppers. That cry was made by a goat-sucker, one of those `Chuck-Will's-widow' sort of fellows. They're very peculiar, these night-hawks. Even ours at home keeps up that whirring, spinning-wheel-like sound in the Surrey and Sussex fir-woods. Ah, that's a dangerous creature, if you like!" he said, in a whisper.
"Which?" I said, below my breath.
"That piping ping-wing-wing."
"Why, that's a mosquito, uncle," I cried contemptuously.
"The only thing likely to attack us to-night, Nat," he said, laughing; "but we'll have the guns and everything ready all the same."
"To shoot the mosquitoes, uncle?"
"No, but anything that might--mind, I say might--come snuffing about us."
Uncle Dick was so calm and cool over it that he made me the same, and the little nervous sensation caused by the novelty of my position soon passed away. The guns were loaded and laid ready, a couple of blankets spread, and utterly wearied out, after making up the fire, we crept into our tent and lay down to get a good night's sleep.
"We'll rest on shore wherever it's safe, Nat," were Uncle Dick's last words. "It's nicer to have the solid ground under you. This is a treat; the sand's like a feather bed; but we shan't often have such a luxurious place. Good-night."
"One moment, uncle," I whispered, as I heard a rustling sound somewhere in the bushes. "What do you think is making that?"
I waited for him to answer, under the impression that he was listening to make sure before he replied; but as he took no heed, I spoke again, but only to hear his hard breathing, for he was fast asleep, and I started up in horror, for the strange rustling sound, as of a huge snake or alligator creeping through the dry grass and bushes, began again much nearer than before.
CHAPTER FOUR.
THE DANGERS OF THE NIGHT.
It is not pleasant to hear a noise as of something forcing its way through bushes close by your bedside, when instead of the strong walls of a house in a thickly inhabited place, with police to protect you, there is nothing but a thin piece of canvas between you and a forest swarming, for aught you can tell, with hosts of dangerous creatures seeking their prey.
I felt that in my first night where I lay by the outskirts of one of the Central American forests, and I should have seized Uncle Dick by the arm and shaken him into wakefulness but for the dread of being considered cowardly.
For he seemed so calm and confident that I dared not wake him up, to be told that the noise I heard was only made by some innocent animal that would flee for its life if I slipped outside.
"I wonder whether that would," I said to myself. "I'll try."
I made up my mind that I would take my double gun from where it lay beside me and go out; but it was a long time before I could make up my body to act; and when at last, in anger with myself for being so cowardly, I did creep out softly and make a dash in the direction of the sound, I was bathed in perspiration, and my legs shook beneath me, for I felt certain that the next minute I should be seized by some monstrous creature ready to spring at me out of the darkness.
But nothing did seize me. For there was a thud and a faint crash repeated again and again, and though I could not see, I felt certain that the fire had attracted some deer-like creature, which had gone bounding off, till all was silent again, when I crept back, letting the canvas fall behind me, feeling horribly conceited, and thinking what a brave fellow I must be.
I must have gone off to sleep directly I lay down then, for one moment I was looking at the dull-reddish patch in the canvas behind which the fire was burning, and the next everything was blank, till all at once I was wide awake, with a hand laid across my mouth, and the interior of our scrap of a tent so dark that I could see nothing; but I could hear someone breathing, and directly after Uncle Dick whispered:
"Lie still--don't speak."
He removed his hand then, and seemed to be listening.
"Hear anything, Nat?" he said.
"Not now, uncle. I did a little while ago, and took my gun and went out."
"Ah! What was it?"
"Some kind of deer, and it