tream."

"That snorting croak, then?"

"Only frogs or toads, Nat; and that chirruping whirring is something in
the cricket or cicada way. If we heard a jaguar or puma, it would most
likely be a magnified tom-cat-like sort of sound."

"But that mournful howl, uncle?" I whispered.

"A poor, melancholy spider-monkey saying good-night to his friends in
the big trees. Most of the other cries are made by night-birds out on
the hunt for their suppers. That cry was made by a goat-sucker, one of
those `Chuck-Will's-widow' sort of fellows. They're very peculiar,
these night-hawks. Even ours at home keeps up that whirring,
spinning-wheel-like sound in the Surrey and Sussex fir-woods. Ah,
that's a dangerous creature, if you like!" he said, in a whisper.

"Which?" I said, below my breath.

"That piping _ping-wing-wing_."

"Why, that's a mosquito, uncle," I cried contemptuously.

"The only thing likely to attack us to-night, Nat," he said, laughing;
"but we'll have the guns and everything ready all the same."

"To shoot the mosquitoes, uncle?"

"No, but anything that might--mind, I say _might_--come snuffing about
us."

Uncle Dick was so calm and cool over it that he made me the same, and
the little nervous sensation caused by the novelty of my position soon
passed away. The guns were loaded and laid ready, a couple of blankets
spread, and utterly wearied out, after making up the fire, we crept into
our tent and lay down to get a good night's sleep.

"We'll rest on shore wherever it's safe, Nat," were Uncle Dick's last
words. "It's nicer to have the solid ground under you. This is a
treat; the sand's like a feather bed; but we shan't often have such a
luxurious place. Good-night."

"One moment, uncle," I whispered, as I heard a rustling sound somewhere
in the bushes. "What do you think is making that?"

I waited for him to answer, under the impression that he was listening
to make sure before he replied; but as he took no heed, I spoke again,
but only to hear his hard breathing, for he was fast asleep, and I
started up in horror, for the strange rustling sound, as of a huge snake
or alligator creeping through the dry grass and bushes, began again much
nearer than before.

CHAPTER FOUR.

THE DANGERS OF THE NIGHT.

It is not pleasant to hear a noise as of something forcing its way
through bushes close by your bedside, when instead of the strong walls
of a house in a thickly inhabited place, with p