at there was
no enemy in the neighbourhood, would return quietly to his lair.

Fritz was far from being a noisy dog. He had seen too much service, and
gathered too much wisdom, to waste his breath in idle barking; and it
was only upon grand and important occasions that he condescended to give
tongue. Then, however, his bark--or bay, it should rather be termed--
was terrific.

On the occasion in question--which happened just about the hour of
midnight--the three sleepers were suddenly awakened by his expansive
"yowl," that filled the whole valley, and reverberating from the cliffs,
appeared continuous. The dog, after uttering this warning note, had
rushed out of the hut--which had no door to it--and it was from some
place down near the lake that his barking appeared to proceed.

"What can it be?" was the prompt and _very_ natural inquiry of the three
individuals, whom Fritz had so abruptly awakened from their slumbers.

"Something Fritz is frightened at," said Caspar, who knew the dog's
nature better than either of the others. "He don't bark that way at any
sort of game that he knows he can conquer. It's some animal that's a
match for him, I warrant. If the old yak bull were still alive, I
should say it was he."

"There may be tigers in this valley; I never thought of that," rejoined
Karl. "Now that I do think of it," continued he, drawing upon the
reminiscences of his zoological reading, "it is quite probable. People
believe the tiger to be exclusively an inhabitant of tropical or
subtropical regions. That is an error. On this continent (the speaker
was in Asia) the royal Bengal tiger ranges at least as far north as the
latitude of London. I know he is found on the Amoor as high as the
fiftieth degree."

"Mercy on us!" broke in Caspar; "it may be a tiger, and we have never
thought of having a door to our hut! If it should be one--"

Here the hypothetic speech of Caspar was abruptly brought to a
conclusion, by a singular noise from without--which was heard mingling
in chorus with the baying of Fritz.

The noise in question bore some resemblance to the sound of a trumpet,
only sharper and more treble in its character. It was in effect more
like the squeak of a _penny trumpet_ than the real article; and yet,
withal, there was something terrifying in the sound.

It must have terrified Fritz: for the moment after it was heard, the dog
came rushing back into the hut, as if pursued by a legion of horned