longed squawk. It was like the voice of no beast or bird with which we were familiar. At first it was distant, but it rapidly approached, tearing through the night and apparently through the tree-tops, like the harsh cry of a web-footed bird with a snarl in it; in fact, as I said, a squawk. It came close to us, and then turned, and as rapidly as it came, fled away through the forest, and we lost the unearthly noise far up the mountain-slope.
“What was that, Phelps?” we cried out. But no response came; and we wondered if his spirit had been rent away, or if some evil genius had sought it, and then, baffled by his serene and philosophic spirit, had shot off into the void in rage and disappointment. The night had no other adventure. The moon at length coming up behind the clouds lent a spectral aspect to the forest, and deceived us for a time into the notion that day was at hand; but the rain never ceased, and we lay wishful and waiting, with no item of solid misery wanting that we could conceive.
Day was slow a-coming, and did n’t amount to much when it came, so heavy were the clouds; but the rain slackened. We crawled out of our water-cure “pack,” and sought the guide. To our infinite relief he announced himself not only alive, but in a going condition. I looked at my watch. It had stopped at five o’clock. I poured the water out of it, and shook it: but, not being constructed on the hydraulic principle, it refused to go. Some hours later we encountered a huntsman, from whom I procured some gun-grease; with this I filled the watch, and heated it in by the fire. This is the most effectual way of treating a delicate Genevan timepiece.
The light disclosed fully the suspected fact that our
