The Boy Hunters by Mayne Reid

Author:Mayne Reid [Reid, Mayne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2007-04-26T16:00:00+00:00

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Chapter Twenty.

A Nocturnal Adventure.

When night came again the young hunters went to sleep by the fire. As it had suddenly grown chilly, they lay with their feet towards it, such being the usual practice of hunters when sleeping by a fire. When the feet are warm, the remainder of the body can easily be kept so; but, on the contrary, when one’s feet become cold, it is scarcely possible to sleep. They were not troubled with cold, and all three were soon sleeping soundly.

From the necessity of supplying the barbecue every now and then with fresh embers, a large fire had been kept up during the day. It still continued to blaze and crackle in a bright red pile. The meat remained resting upon the saplings, where it had been placed to dry.

No one had thought of keeping watch. When camping out at night, in their hunting expeditions in the swamps of Louisiana, they had not accustomed themselves to this habit, and they did not think of its being necessary here. It is the fear of Indians alone that causes the prairie traveller to keep sentry during the live-long night; but our young hunters had much less fear of them than might be supposed. There had been as yet no hostilities in this quarter between whites and Indians; besides, Basil knew that he carried a token of friendship should the latter come upon them.

They had not been more than half-an-hour asleep when a growl from Marengo awoke them. They all started up into a sitting posture, and looked anxiously out into the darkness. They could see nothing strange. The great trunks of the trees, with the long silvery moss of whitish hue, were glistening in the light of the still blazing fire. All the space between was gloomy and black as ebony. They could hear nothing that sounded strange. There was not a breath of air stirring, so that the trees were still and silent, as if asleep. Only up among their leaves and high tops, the tree-frogs (Hyloidea) and cicadas kept up their continuous music. Amid their numerous and varied calls could be distinguished the “ll–l–luk” of the tree-toad (Hyla versicolor); and from the aquatic plants, that lined the spring close by, came the merry chirrup of the Hylodes gryllus, or “Savanna cricket.” Far up among the leaves of the oaks the little green tree-frog repeated his tinkling bell-like note that fell with a pleasant sound upon the ear. But all these were the usual voices of the night—the voices of the southern forest—and they produced no strange impression upon the listening hunters. The call of the Hyla, indeed—loud and oft-repeated as it was—warned them that a rain-storm was near; and the darkness of the sky above confirmed the warning.

But it was not these sounds that had caused Marengo to spring up with such a savage growl; and the boys continued attentively listening to discover what it could have been.

The dark aisles of the forest sparkled with moving lights.

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