"
Still muttering, young Farrar kicked off his high rubber boots, and
dragged off his coat. He proceeded to shake and wring the water from his
upper garments, listening intently, and glancing half expectantly into
the pitch-black shadows at the edges of the forest, as if he might hear
the stealthy steps and see the savage form of the superseded red man
emerge therefrom.
"Ugh! I mind the ducking now more than I did a while ago," he murmured.
"The water wasn't cold. Why, we bathed at the other end of the pond late
last evening! But these wet clothes are precious uncomfortable. I wish
we were nearer to camp. Good Gracious! What's that?"
He stood stock-still and erect, his flesh shrinking a little, while his
drenched flannel shirt clung yet more closely and clammily to his skin.
A distant noise was wafted to his ears through the forest behind. It
began like the gentle, mellow lowing of a cow at evening, swelled into a
quavering, appealing crescendo cadence, and gradually died away. Almost
as the last note ceased another commenced at the same low pitch, with
only the rest of a heart-beat between the two, and surged forth into a
plaintive yet tempestuous call, which sank as before.
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