162 CRUSOE'S ISLAND. 



ing forms were converted into veritable imps of dark- 

 ness. 



How slowly those night hours dragged along! 

 It seemed as if daylight would never come ; but at 

 last it appeared, sweetly heralded by the twittering of 

 birds; but greeted, too, with grunts by my black 

 jailers, who glanced up at me anxiously, to assure 

 themselves that I was still in evidence. 



As the sun rose above the tree tops its heat soon 

 dried my clothes ; yet still I sat there, cramped and 

 weary, undecided what to do, but revolving many 

 plans for escape. A sudden disturbance in the herd 

 beneath me drew my attention. The peccaries were 

 all facing southward, sniffing the air suspiciously, evi- 

 dently startled. Two or three of the old boars started 

 out to reconnoiter. They returned in a few minutes 

 with some information, apparently, that caused every 

 member of the gang to gather himself up on his feet 

 as if electrified. 



Eagerly turning my attention in the direction 

 toward which they looked, I soon heard a faint noise, 

 like the barking of a dog ; and as this became more 

 distinct the peccaries charged nervously hither and 

 thither, grunting at each other in great alarm. A 

 dog, of course, impKed a master. I shouted and fired 

 off my gun ; and after a while came an answering 

 human voice — the first I had heard in many months 

 — but I could not distinguish the words. 



Soon after the crashing of bushes and branches 

 announced something approaching, and I shouted out 

 a warning of the danger that might be incurred by 



