Frank could give a guess what made it, but he did not
immediately say so.
"Say, we must have landed close to some native shack, and that's a baby
crying!" Andy declared.
"Hardly," came from Frank. "That's only one of our cat friends giving
tongue, perhaps calling to his mate to come and see the funny objects
that dropped from the skies."
"Wow! reckon now you must mean a yellow boy, a jaguar! I bet you, Frank,
there's a heap of 'em around us right now. How do we know but what every
tree hides one of the critters, watching everything we do? I can tell
you right now that I don't wander far from this jolly little blaze
tonight. And besides, one of us has just got to keep a grip on this gun
all the time. I don't hanker after being carried away and made a meal of
by a big hungry cat."
"Oh, the fire will scare them away all right, I believe. There isn't an
animal that doesn't dread fire. Always keep that in mind, Andy, when
trouble comes," said Frank, earnestly.
"I mean to," replied the other, as he once more started to pick up wood,
but it could be noticed that while doing so Andy always kept on eye on
the alert, as if he really believed what he had said about the chances
of their being watched by an army of jaguars.
"There's another sort of cry, Frank," he remarked, presently.
"Yes, and although I couldn't say for sure, I believe it is made by a
colony of monkeys, traveling through the woods at night," the other
replied, after stopping to listen for a minute to the odd sounds.
Pages:
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143