Kennedy, leaning his elbow on the edge of the car, so as to keep an eye on the cylinder, which was actively at work, gazed out upon the calm obscurity; he eagerly scanned the horizon, and, as often happens to minds that are uneasy or possessed with preconceived notions, he fancied that he sometimes detected vague gleams of light in the distance. At one moment he even thought that he saw them only two hundred paces away, quite distinctly, but it was a mere flash that was gone as quickly as it came, and he noticed nothing more. It was, no doubt, one of those luminous illusions that sometimes impress the eye in the midst of very profound darkness. Kennedy was getting over his nervousness and falling into his wandering meditations again, when a sharp whistle pierced his ear. Was that the cry of an animal or of a night-bird, or did it come from human lips? Kennedy, perfectly comprehending the gravity of the situation, was on the point of waking his companions, but he reflected that, in any case, men or animals, the creatures that he had heard must be out of reach. So he merely saw that his weapons were all right, and then, with his night-glass, again plunged his gaze into space. It was not long before he thought he could perceive below him vague forms that seemed to be gliding toward the tree, and then, by the aid of a ray of moonlight that shot like an electric flash between two masses of cloud, he distinctly made out a group of human figures moving in the shadow. The adventure with the dog-faced baboons returned to his memory, and he placed his hand on the doctor’s shoulder. The latter was awake in a moment. “Silence!” said Dick. “Let us speak below our breath.” “Has any thing happened?” “Yes, let us waken Joe.” The instant that Joe was aroused, Kennedy told him what he had seen. “Those confounded monkeys again!” said Joe. “Possibly, but we must be on our guard.” “Joe and I,” said Kennedy, “will climb down the tree by the ladder.” “And, in the meanwhile,” added the doctor, “I will take my measures so that we can ascend rapidly at a moment’s warning.” “Agreed!” “Let us go down, then!” said Joe. “Don’t use your weapons, excepting at the last extremity! It would be a useless risk to make the natives aware of our presence in such a place as this.” Dick and Joe replied with signs of assent, and then letting themselves slide noiselessly toward the tree, took their position in a fork among the strong branches where the anchor had caught. For some moments they listened minutely and motionlessly among the foliage, and ere long Joe seized Kennedy’s hand as he heard a sort of rubbing sound against the bark of the tree. “Don’t you hear that?” he whispered. “Yes, and it’s coming nearer.” “Suppose it should be a serpent? That hissing or whistling that you heard before—” “No! there was something human in it.” “I’d prefer the savages, for I have a horror of those snakes.”