But amid all these beauties, the one object which was dearest to the “B. O. W. C.” was that which they had fixed over the door as at once a memorial of the past and a stimulus to adventurous deeds in the future. It was the jaw of the big fish. They had for a while been undecided as to its destination, and were on the point of giving it to the Museum, but at last decided on placing it there. There it accordingly was, grinning pleasantly with its triangular teeth, and inviting every one to enter. Thus they were seated at their lunch, with Solomon a little apart, looking at them like a father, engaged in pleasing conversation upon all the topics which their recent varied adventures might suggest, recounting the past, enjoying the present, and speculating on the future, when suddenly there came an interruption, which in a moment put a full stop to everything. It was a distant sound. Now a distant sound must have been very peculiar to have caused such excitement as this. Very well--this was very peculiar. It was a harsh, dissonant roar, a noise, in fact, that could not be called a roar exactly, but something half way between a roar and a howl, repeating itself over and over, and pealing from afar upon their startled ears in tremendous echoes. There was no mistaking that sound. It was the same as the one that had so startled them on the memorable night of the money-digging, and had sent them flying in confusion from the spot. The boys all looked at one another with glances of deep meaning. Not one of them was frightened now. Solomon was only curious; in him the broad day destroyed any superstitious feeling. Had it been dark, he would have been as terrified as he was before. The noise was repeated over and over as they listened, and at last it ceased. It sounded like the conglomeration of the bellow of a bull, the roar of a lion, the yell of a madman, and the shriek of a steam-whistle, intermixed with other harsh and discordant noises that can scarcely be defined; and the whole result was one which can certainly not be likened to anything at all. “That settles it!” said Bart at last. “What?” asked Tom. “Well, I’ve been giving the Gaspereaugians the credit of that row at the money-hole, and when they came to-day I was certain of it; but this shows that they could have had nothing to do with it. It’s over there, between us and the Academy, and sounds now in the direction of the money-hole.” “Now’s the time to find it out,” said Bruce. “I was going to propose a watch to-night, to see if we could get at the bottom of it. This is lucky, for we can examine it by daylight.” “It’s the very same noise,” said Arthur. “O, there’s no doubt about it,” said Phil, “only it’s farther off. That night the roar seemed to burst forth just behind me. It’s the same in kind, only less in degree, as Mr. Simmons says.”