27° E. longitude, and 4° 20′ N. latitude, after a journey of 150 miles.
CHAPTER XXI
A NIGHT ATTACK
The night was very dark. The doctor had not been able to recognize the country. He made fast to a tall tree, of which he could scarcely distinguish the confused mass in the gloom. According to arrangement, he took the nine o'clock watch, and at midnight Dick came to relieve him.
"Watch carefully, Dick, please; very carefully."
"Anything new, then?"
"No; I believe I have heard some strange noises below us, and I do not know quite where the wind has carried us. A little extra prudence, then, cannot do any harm."
"You have heard cries of wild beasts?"
"No, it appeared to me something quite different. However, at the least alarm do not fail to wake us."
"All right," replied Dick.
After listening attentively once more, and hearing nothing, the doctor retired, and slept soundly.
The sky was covered with thick clouds, but not a breath of wind was stirring. The "Victoria," held by a single grapnel, felt no movement.
Kennedy leaned upon the car so as to watch the action of the blow-pipe, and began to think of this Erebus-like gloom. He scanned the horizon, and as it happens to restless or preoccupied persons, he fancied he could perceive at times a faint glimmering of light. At one moment he actually believed he saw it 200 paces distant, but it was only a flash, after which he could perceive nothing. It was doubtless one of those luminous sensations which the eye produces in the midst of profound darkness.
Kennedy was satisfied, and resumed his contemplative mood, when a sharp whistle broke the silence. Was it the cry of an animal or of a bird of night? Or did it emanate from human lips?
Kennedy, recognizing all the gravity of the situation, was about to rouse his companions, but he considered that in any case, whether man or beast, it was out of range.
