246 AN APPALLING SOUND. 



'The deep darkness which had enshrouded the woods 

 was at length slowly retreating before the silver arrows 

 of the moon, when the party were suddenly startled 

 from their slumbers by a shriek so dreadful and so near 

 that it seemed as if wrung from some tenant of the 

 infernal world who had visited the upper air. With 

 straining ears the hunters listened for a repetition of 

 the horrid cry. Again it rang through the woods, 

 sending the blood curdling through the veins of the 

 young men, so weirdly wild was the appalling sound. 

 Jake, however, exclaimed, 



" The thing ur a ' painter,' arter all ! I guess I thort I 

 wur a-dreamin', an' heerd the war-cry o' the Apaches. 

 I heerd it once on a time, an' I hope I never will 

 agin. Six o' the best mountainy men that ever pulled 

 a trigger went under at that time, an' this coon only 

 saved hisself by hidin' inside o' a buffler carkidge. 

 Ye-es, boyees, the savages cut steaks off that bull, 

 not knowin' who wur inside him. 'Twur lucky for 

 this child that the buffler wur tough chawin', an' that 

 thur wur a sight o' young cow meat around. Only for 

 that, you bet they'd soon hev let daylight in on Jake 

 Hawken." 



Pierre and Gaultier listened with amusement to the 

 garrulous old hunter, who never seemed so happy as 

 when recounting his adventures to an attentive au- 

 dience. The "painter" seemed to have got the wind of 

 the party, for the screams suddenly ceased, and when 

 they were again repeated it was at a considerable distance. 



