Part 13 (1/2)

”Oo ay, that's true, Shames. Yie-a-ou!”

This yawn was so effusive that Dougall, refusing to be led even by sympathy, yawned internally with his lips closed and swallowed it.

The conversation dropped at this point, though the puffs went on languidly. As the men were extended at full-length, one on his side, the other on his back, it was not unnatural that, being fatigued, they should both pa.s.s from the meditative to the dreamy state, and from that to the unconscious.

It was in this condition that Salamander discovered them.

”Asleep at their posts!” he said mentally. ”That deserves punishment.”

He had crept on hands and knees to the edge of the bushes, and paused to contemplate the wide-open mouth of Bane, who lay on his back, and the prominent right ear of Dougall, whose head rested on his left arm. The debris of supper lay around them--sc.r.a.ps of pemmican, pannikins, spoons, knives, and the broken sh.e.l.ls of teal-duck eggs which, having been picked up some time before, had gone bad.

Suddenly an inspiration--doubtless from the spirit of mischief--came over Salamander. There was one small unbroken egg on the ground near to Bane's elbow. Just over his head the branch of a bush extended. To genius everything comes handy and nothing amiss. Salamander tied the egg to a piece of small twine and suspended it to the twig in such fas.h.i.+on that the egg hung directly over Bane's wide-open mouth. At a glance he had seen that it was possible to lay a light hand on the inner end of the branch, and at the same time bend his mouth over Dougall's ear. He drew a long breath, for it was a somewhat delicate and difficult, being a duplicate, manoeuvre!

Pressing down the branch very slowly and with exceeding care, he guided the egg into Bane's mouth. He observed the precise moment when it touched the sleeper's tongue, and then exploded a yell into Dougall's ear that nearly burst the tympanum.

Bane's jaws shut with a snap instantly. Need we--no, we need not!

Dougall leaped up with a cry that almost equalled that of Salamander.

Both men rushed to the fortress and bounded into it, the one spurting out Gaelic expletives, the other rotten egg and bits of sh.e.l.l. They seized their guns and crouched, glaring through the various loopholes all round with finger on trigger, ready to sacrifice at a moment's notice anything with life that should appear. Indeed they found it difficult, in their excited condition, to refrain from blazing at nothing! Their friendly foe meanwhile had retired, highly delighted with his success. He had not done with them however. By no means! The spirit of mischief was still strong upon him, and he crept into the bushes to meditate.

”It wa.s.s an evil speerut, Shames,” gasped Donald Bane, when he had nearly got rid of the egg. ”Did you smell his preath?”

”No, Tonald, it wa.s.s not. Spirits are not corporeal, and cannot handle eggs, much less cram them down a man's throat. It wa.s.s the egg you did smell.”

”That may be so, Shames, but it could not be a redskin, for he would be more likely to cram a scalpin' knife into my heart than an egg into my mouth.”

”Iss it not dreamin' ye wa.s.s, an' tryin' to eat some more in your sleep?

You wa.s.s always fond of overeatin' yourself--whativer--Tonald.”

Before this question could be answered, another yell of the most appalling and complex nature rang out upon the night-air, struck them dumb, and seemed to crumple up their very hearts.

Salamander had been born with a natural gift for shrieking, and being of a sprightly disposition, had cultivated the gift in boyhood.

Afterwards, being also a good mimic, he had made the subject a special study, with a view to attract geese and other game towards him. That he sometimes prost.i.tuted the talent was due to the touch of genius, to which I have already referred.

When the crumpled-up organs began to recover, Bane said to Dougall, ”Shames, this iss a bad business.”

Dougall, having been caught twice that evening, was on his guard. He would not absolutely agree with his friend, but admitted that he was not far wrong.

Again the yell burst forth with intensified volume and complicated variation. Salamander was young; he did not yet know that it is possible to over-act.

”Shames!” whispered Bane, ”I hev got a notion in my hid.”

”I hope it's a coot w'an, Tonald, for the notions that usually git into it might stop there with advantage. They are not much to boast of.”

”You shall see. Just you keep talkin' out now an' then as if I wa.s.s beside you, an' don't, whativer ye do, fire into the bushes.”

”Ferry coot,” answered Dougall.

Another moment, and Donald Bane glided over the parapet of their fort at the side nearest the lake; and, creeping serpent-fas.h.i.+on for a considerable distance round, gained the bushes, where he waited for a repet.i.tion of the cry. He had not long to wait. With that boldness, not to say presumption, which is the child of success, Salamander now began to make too many drafts on genius, and invented a series of howls so preposterously improbable that it was impossible for even the most credulous to believe them the natural cries of man, beast, demon, or monster.

Following up the sound, Donald Bane soon came to a little hollow where, in the dim light, he perceived Salamander's visage peering over a ridge in the direction of the fortress, his eyes glittering with glee and his mouth wide-open in the act of giving vent to the hideous cries. The Highlander had lived long in the wilderness, and was an adept in its ways. With the noiseless motion of a redskin he wormed his way through the underwood until close alongside of the nocturnal visitor, and then suddenly stopped a howl of more than demoniac ferocity by clapping a hand on Salamander's mouth.