At times we had literally to force our way through the dense and tangled undergrowth; then we would be moving through lovely aisles-- "And many a walk traversed Of stateliest covert, cedar, pine, or palm." We pushed on for perhaps two miles, never moving far from the stream, and then made camp in a beautiful open spot, over which, however, the great branches formed an unbroken canopy of leaves. A guard was arranged for the night. Rhodes had the first watch. It was during my vigil that it came--a sudden, fierce, frightful scream, which awoke every member of our little party. It came from somewhere down the river, and it was replete with terror and agony; it was a sound that made the very air quiver and throb. It seemed human, and yet I told myself that it simply could not be. And then it ceased, as suddenly as it had come, and all was still again, save for the gentle, sad whispering of the water. "What," I exclaimed, my voice, however, low and guarded, "could it have been? It sounded human, but I know that that sound did not come from the throat of a man or a woman." "I think you are right, Bill," said Milton Rhodes. "What it was--well, that seems to be a mystery to the Dromans themselves." I turned and saw Drorathusa, who had just issued from the tent, standing beside Ondonarkus and engaged in hurried and whispered dialogue, the troubled looks which she incessantly directed into the forest, in that quarter whence had come that scream, advertising dread and something for which I can not find a name. "Evidently," Rhodes observed, "they know but little more about this place and the things in it than we do ourselves." "And that is virtually nothing." "Did you," he asked abruptly, "hear something else?" "Something else? When?" "Something besides that scream. And while it was filling the air. And just afterwards." "I heard nothing else. Did you?" "I believe that I did." "What?" "I can't say," was his answer. "I wish that I could." "Well," I said, "all we know is that there is something sneaking or prowling about in this wood, that it has just got a victim and that, in all probability, it means to get one of us--maybe all of us." Rhodes nodded, rather rueful of visage. "We were fortunate enough," he added "to kill two carnivores--snake-cats; I wonder if we shall be as fortunate the next time. For there is another thing waiting, sneaking, watching, biding its time." "Another, yes," said I. "But another _what_?" Chapter 35 A SCREAM AND--SILENCE I am afraid that no one slept very well after that. It was about seven o'clock when we left that place. And I confess that I was more uneasy, more troubled than I would have cared to acknowledge. For we were headed toward the spot--at any rate, in the direction--whence had come that scream. What would we find there? Would we find anything? We did.